


Tell Me It's Almost Over

by lostresidentevilpotter



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Make sure you read the notes for more info, There's some messed up shit in here guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Al doesn’t question her spot as Ginny’s second-in-command until she finds a desperate survivor on a routine run. Al/Alicia.





	1. predicament

**Author's Note:**

> So, first and foremost, warnings:  
From what I've gathered from canon, the pioneers are pretty damn ableist, and that's reflected in this story on the pioneers' part.  
There's also a heavily implied instance of a past suicide attempt.  
If you have any questions about the story, feel free to message me on tumblr at blinkaftermidnight

Alicia lies half-dead in the middle of the road. She’s unable to walk any farther. She ran out of food two days ago, water four hours ago, and she has resigned herself to dying on the hot pavement of a back road in the middle of nowhere Texas. The sun blazes in the sky, and sweat pours down Alicia’s face, so surely she’ll dehydrate soon enough. She just wishes it would go faster. She ran out of bullets, too, a few days ago, and she doesn’t really want her death to be at the hands of her gun barrel.

Her mom is dead, just like so many others. Her mom was the one person Alicia expected to live, and she’s gone. Nick, Luci, and Strand are gone, too, but the other kind of gone. Not dead – Alicia just has no fucking clue where they are. They got separated a while back. Shit happened. Things were said. Alicia ended up on her own.

And now she’s going to die on a poorly paved road, and Alicia doesn’t even know what goddamn town she’s in.

Alicia presses her cheek against the hot concrete, exhales, and closes her eyes.

*

Al reaches for the revolver at her hip as her horse steadily approaches the body in the middle of the road. She removes the cowboy hat from her head and squints out at the body, decisively female, unmoving. Al can’t even guess at if the body is dead or alive – or undead. She rides up close – but not too close, so Dakota isn’t at risk if this body happens to belong to a dormant walker – and dismounts. Her hand doesn’t leave the revolver as she carefully nudges the back of the woman’s leg with her boot. She nearly jumps back, half expecting the body to try to bite her, but the woman merely stirs.

Al stares down at her, and after what feels like an eternity, the woman rolls onto her back. Al’s eyebrows raise in surprise. The woman is younger than she’d anticipated, probably in her mid-twenties, with blood and dirt smeared across her face and dried onto her flannel shirt and the light colored tank top beneath it. Al’s eyes scan over her quickly, searching for any weapons, but all she sees is what used to belong to a gun barrel lying on the concrete, the end sharpened to a point. The perfect kind of weapon for killing the dead, but definitely not something Ginny would keep around at their settlement.

_“We’re too civilized for a weapon like that,” _Ginny would say if she were here.

But she isn’t here. It only took about six months for Al to work her way up within the pioneers, all the way up to being Ginny’s second-in-command. And one of the perks of having such a position is being able to leave the settlement without supervision.

The woman’s eyelashes flutter, and startling green eyes lock onto Al’s face. Al hesitates; she doesn’t draw the revolver, but she thinks about it. Sweat beads on Al’s brow, and if she didn’t have an image to uphold, maybe she’d consider unbuttoning her shirt.

“Ma’am,” Al says carefully. “Are you alright?”

_She could be bitten _Al reminds herself. _Or diseased. Or this could be a trap, and she’s going to spring up and kill you, steal your shit_.

The woman blinks. “Not really,” she says. Her voice is hoarse, perhaps from lack of use. But Al quickly deduces that this woman is out of supplies. She has one backpack, and it doesn’t appear as if there’s much in it.

Al should radio Ginny, tell her what she’s found. But she hesitates. Al takes her hand away from the revolver and holds it out to the woman. The woman’s gaze is suspicious, but her desperation wins out, and she takes Al’s hand. She probably doesn’t have the strength to help get herself to her feet; Al does all the work, hauling her up. The woman nearly collapses back to the pavement. She only stays up because Al grabs onto her arms and stops her descent. The woman grabs onto Al’s biceps in return, and her grasp is strong even if she is not.

Their eyes lock, and the woman whispers, “Who are you?”

Al clears her throat. “The name’s Al. I’m with a settlement a few miles up the road. We call ourselves the pioneers.”

The woman nods in acknowledgement and only says in return, “I’m Alicia.”

Al nods back. “Well, Alicia, it seems you’re in a bit of a predicament.”

*

Al is taller than her, stronger than her, and whatever this settlement is that she’s from, they feed her well. She shows no signs of malnourishment. Alicia assumes a few other things just from Al’s appearance. Wherever she’s from probably has a tailor and a barber, given how well her clothes fit and the complexity of her haircut.

For a moment, Alicia wonders if it could be Daniel, then remembers Strand said he shot him in the face.

The pioneers obviously have horses, therefore they have the available resources to care for these horses. Or maybe it’s just this one horse. Alicia has no way to know for sure.

“Well, Alicia,” Al says, “it seems like you’re in a bit of a predicament.”

Alicia still hasn’t let go of Al’s arms out of fear that it’ll send her falling to the pavement. Al, for her part, hasn’t let go either. Alicia assumes the pioneers have a stable water supply, because Al wears none of the blood or dirt that Alicia bears, and Alicia can smell the scent of soap clinging to Al’s shirt, which happens to be buttoned to her neck in spite of the heat. So maybe the pioneers are prudes, too. Or maybe they’re just stupid.

“You aren’t from Texas, are you?” Alicia says dumbly. Al’s eyebrows raise at her, and Alicia hears herself continue even though she’s parched, her throat bone dry. “I mean, you don’t sound like you’re from Texas. I’m not from Texas, either.”

A smile flickers on Al’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by a much more impassive look. “Then where might you be from, Alicia?” Al asks.

“Los Angeles.”

Al nods in acknowledgement. “Come on. I’ll get you some water.”

*

Al does more than get Alicia some water. In fact, she gives Alicia an entire bottle, but it’s okay. She’s got another one stashed in her bag. She offers Alicia jerky and makes her eat it slowly, but when she’s done, she looks a lot steadier on her feet. Dakota even lets Alicia reach out and pet her. Al mostly observes and reclaims her cowboy hat, positioning it back on her head. She probably shouldn’t have taken it off in the first place. She keeps her hand near her revolver at all times, but Alicia isn’t portraying herself as a threat. She’s rather polite, actually.

“So,” Al finally says as Alicia strokes her fingers along Dakota’s head. “What are you doing out here all alone? And so far from your home, it sounds like.”

“Oh, Los Angeles is long gone,” Alicia says nonchalantly. “They bombed the shit out of it at the very beginning.”

Al conceals her surprise easily but nods. “You only answered part of the question.”

Alicia smiles and shrugs. “Everyone else is gone,” she says, as if this explains everything. “What are _you _doing out here all alone? And even though you didn’t tell me where you’re from, I know it isn’t Texas.”

“This was supposed to be a routine run,” Al says. “We need, er, something very specific, and I’m supposed to go find it.”

“But you found me instead,” Alicia says.

“Exactly.”

“So?” Alicia questions. “Did you find it? Whatever _it _is.”

Al actually smiles, adjusts her hat, then puts her hands on her hips. “No,” she admits. “Not yet. Still looking.”

“If you’re gone too long,” Alicia says slowly, “your people will get worried, won’t they?”

Al shuffles uncomfortably. Dakota seems to sense her mood and mirrors it until Al pats her reassuringly. “Yes,” Al answers. “They’ll call first.” She motions to the walkie on her belt, but in doing that, she also calls attention to the revolver at her hip. “And if I don’t answer, they’ll send a search party.”

“You better answer if they call then,” Alicia says. It’s a lighthearted comment, but Al grimaces.

“Look, Alicia,” Al says, “as much as I’d love to stay and chat –”

“You’ve gotta be on your way,” Alicia finishes. “I get it.”

Al doesn’t think she does, but Al nods nonetheless. “Hey, I’d be happy to give you a ride into town. It’s not much farther up the road. Though I’m assuming that’s the direction you came from, but if you keep walking this way, you’re just gonna hit our settlement.”

Alicia hums, pressing her lips together. “I’m guessing that’s not something I want to do.”

“Well,” Al says slowly. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you can offer us.”

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “If you mean supplies, I have nothing.”

“No, not supplies,” Al says gently.

“Skills,” Alicia guesses. “It’s a _pull your weight and then some _sort of deal, right?”

Al rubs at the back of her neck and gives a half shrug. “Something like that, yeah. We’re trying to build something, Alicia. Something that’ll endure this unfortunate piece of human history and carry into whatever comes after it.”

“After the dead?” Alicia questions. “How can you know anything comes after?”

Al smiles. “Because we’re building it.”

*

Al is…a little weird, Alicia will admit. That doesn’t stop her from getting on Dakota and allowing Al to take them into town. Alicia sits behind Al, arms wrapped loosely around her waist, as Dakota gallops up the road. Alicia’s meager belongings are on her back, her only weapon easily accessible just in case. Alicia doubts she’ll have to kill anything, though. Her arm rests against the revolver holstered at Al’s hip, and Alicia’s willing to bet Al has more weapons stashed somewhere. Maybe even on her, concealed.

Now that Alicia has eaten and had water, she’s tired. She was tired before, when she was basically dying in the middle of the road, but this is a different kind of tired. Alicia has to resist the urge to rest her head against Al’s back and doze off. It’s not even a long ride. Maybe ten minutes pass before Al brings Dakota to a stop in front of an auto shop.

“You guys have cars?” Alicia questions.

Al dismounts first then offers Alicia a hand. Alicia can get down on her own, but she takes Al’s hand nonetheless and hops down off of Dakota. “Yeah,” Al answers.

“Then why are you on horseback?”

“Saves fuel,” Al replies. She draws the revolver and heads for the store.

“So what exactly are you looking for?” Alicia asks. “Or is that top secret?”

Al cracks a small smile and peers through the dirty window. “Antifreeze,” she says. Alicia doesn’t have anything to say to that. She was expecting a smartass kind of answer, not a straight up one. She watches, gun barrel in hand, as Al yanks the door open. Little bells chime, and Al stiffens, but nothing comes forth from the store. Not even when Alicia taps the gun barrel against the metal doorframe.

“Seems clear,” Alicia comments.

“Stay here,” Al warns. “Keep your eyes open. I’ll be right back.”

Alicia nods and quips, “Yes, ma’am.”

Alicia scans her surroundings, but there’s nothing out here. Dakota is relaxed, happy even, and Alicia figures the horse will serve as her first warning if anything’s amiss. Al takes less than five minutes in the shop, returning with a bottle of antifreeze. The revolver is holstered at her hip once more.

“So,” Alicia says.

“Yes?”

Alicia shuffles her feet on the gravel. “I guess this is it, right? This is where we go our separate ways?”

Al lifts the cowboy hat from her head and runs her fingers through her hair. “Unless,” Al says hesitantly, “unless you want to see where I’m from. You’re out here all alone?”

“Yeah. I am.”

Al hums. “Ginny might listen,” she says.

“Ginny?”

“Our leader,” Al explains. “I’m her second-in-command.”

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “_You _are?”

Al laughs. “Surprised?”

“You seem…young.”

“So is Ginny,” Al replies. Her back straightens, perhaps proudly. “The young are strong.”

Alicia’s head tilts to the side. “But not wise,” she says.

“That’s debatable.”

Alicia inhales sharply. “You know, you’re kind of strange, Al,” Alicia says.

“So are you.”

Alicia shakes her head. “Not the way you are.”

Al grunts. “Do you want to come with me or not?”

Alicia smiles.

*

Al should really radio Ginny. Sure, she got the antifreeze, just like she said she would. But she also picked up someone along the way, and Ginny doesn’t really like being caught off guard with new people. Though it wouldn’t be the first time Al had brought someone in without first announcing it. Ginny forgave her last time.

Al has no way of knowing if she’ll show her the same leniency this time around.

She rides up to the gate, Alicia behind her, holding onto the antifreeze. Her other arm’s secured around Al’s waist, and she’s got a fistful of Al’s shirt, just in case. Alicia’s wearing Al’s cowboy hat. She’s sunburned enough as it is; at least the hat shields her face.

“You alright back there?” Al asks quietly, turning her head back. She feels Alicia nod against her shoulder, and Al nods in return. “Just let me handle this, okay?” Al says.

“Okay.”

Al grabs her walkie off her belt and calmly says into it, “Ginny, it’s Al. I’m at the gate. You should meet me here.”

There’s a slight pause before Ginny’s cheery voice replies, “Oh, Al, whenever you say that, I know you’ve done something you shouldn’t have.”

“What can I say?” Al says wryly. “You know me.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“What should I do?” Alicia whispers next to Al’s ear.

“Let me do the talking,” Al says. “Don’t say anything unless Ginny speaks directly to you. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Al says. “Here she comes.”

Alicia’s grasp tightens on Al’s shirt as Ginny strolls up to the gate, her signature smile plastered on her face. Dakota gets antsy as Ginny gives the order to open the gate, and Al pats the horse to calm her down. Ginny steps out of the gate and stares up at Al with her hands on her hips, smile in place.

“Well, well, well,” Ginny says. “Now what do we have here?”

“I found her,” Al explains. “She’s alone. Not a liability.”

“You know I’ll be the judge of that, Al,” Ginny says. “I see you’ve got the antifreeze, though.”

Al smiles thinly. “Have I ever let you down before, Ginny?”

“No, you haven’t,” Ginny says, smiling widely. She waves Al inside, stepping out of Dakota’s way. “Take her to my room, okay?” Ginny says. “Fred will take care of Dakota, and I’ll handle the antifreeze situation and meet you both up there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Al says. She dismounts and takes the antifreeze from Alicia, passing it to Ginny before turning back to help Alicia off Dakota.

“Oh, and Al?” Ginny says. “Get her cleaned up. Shower. Fresh clothes. The works.” Al nods. Ginny’s eyes flick to Al’s hat on Alicia’s head, but her smile doesn’t waver. “Always so polite,” Ginny comments. “I think we’ve got some aloe for that sunburn of hers, too. Take good care of her, Al.”

*

The pioneers’ settlement, Alicia realizes, is a fancy apartment complex. Ginny’s room is like any other, Alicia supposes. It’s cozy. Neat. Alicia jumps when Al shuts the door behind them and flips the deadbolt.

“So? Did that go well?” Alicia asks. She finally pulls Al’s cowboy hat from her head and hands it back. Al sets it down on a nearby decorative table and snorts.

“About as well as I expected,” Al says. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Alicia follows Al to the bathroom. Al flips the lights on, and Alicia nearly cries. She hasn’t had anything close to electricity in a long time. Al motions for Alicia to take a seat on the toilet lid then crouches down in front of the vanity. She comes up with a washcloth and wets it under the tap. She turns to Alicia then hesitates.

“Do you mind?” Al asks.

“No.”

Al nods solemnly and starts to gently wipe the dirt and blood from Alicia’s face. She rinses the grime from the washcloth, wrings it out, and starts again.

“What happened here?” Al asks, grazing her fingertips across Alicia’s temple.

Alicia winces and knocks her hand aside. “I got cut,” Alicia says.

“It still hurts?”

“Only when you poke at it,” Alicia replies.

“I’m sorry.”

Alicia sighs. “It’s okay.”

“I can get something for it,” Al offers. “There should be antiseptic around here somewhere –”

“Al,” Alicia interrupts. “It’s okay. It’s just a little cut.”

Al nods but her eyes lock on Alicia’s face inquisitively. The look passes, though, and Al sets the dirtied washcloth into the sink. “I’m guessing you’d like to shower,” Al says.

“If I could,” Alicia says.

“Of course,” Al says. She speaks in an odd, soft way. “I’ll find you some clean clothes and that aloe Ginny was talking about.”

“Thank you.”

Al nods again. “Call if you need anything,” she says. She pulls the door shut behind her, and Alicia showers for the first time in what feels like forever. She refuses to think back to life at the stadium before it fell.

Alicia steps out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body at the same time that the door swings open. Alicia startles but manages to keep a hold on the towel, and she watches Al visibly balk, her eyebrows shooting toward her hairline.

“I am so sorry,” Al blurts. “I didn’t even think –”

“It’s okay,” Alicia laughs. Her eyes fall to the bundle of clothes in Al’s arms. “I’d have to come get you anyway,” Alicia says. “I’m not putting my dirty clothes back on.”

Al manages a tentative smile and sets the clothes on the counter. “I’ll be in the living room,” Al informs. “I found the aloe.”

Alicia gets dressed. The pants are a little too long, but they fit well in the waist. The flannel shirt is well-worn, a faded red, and Alicia rolls the sleeves to her elbows and leaves the top button undone. She puts her own boots back on, ties her hair back, then steps back out into the apartment.

As promised, Al’s in the living room, seated on the couch. There’s an unmarked tin on the coffee table, which Alicia assumes is the aloe. Al waves Alicia over, and Alicia cautiously maneuvers around the coffee table and gingerly takes a seat on the couch beside Al. She keeps a respectful distance between them. Al leans forward and grabs the tin off the coffee table, twisting the lid off.

“Your face got some sun,” Al comments. “And your ears and neck. Your, um…chest, too.”

Alicia smirks. “I guess that’s why you don’t wear low cut shirts here, huh?”

Al grunts. Her shirt is still buttoned to her neck. She dips her fingers into the aloe, and Alicia gives her a funny look. “What?” Al says.

“I can do it,” Alicia tells her.

Al cracks a smile and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t. Ginny’s very particular about not being wasteful.”

Alicia sighs but nods. Al conservatively smears aloe across Alicia’s forehead, down the bridge of her nose, over her cheeks, along her jaw. Alicia tries not to enjoy the simple touch – too much. She can’t remember the last time she was really allowed access to human contact. Al traces her fingertip along the curve of Alicia’s left ear, then the right. She has Alicia tip her head back, and she’s a little more generous with the amount of aloe Alicia’s neck receives. To be fair, Alicia managed to really fry her neck somehow.

“Here,” Alicia says. She pops the next two buttons on the flannel, exposing more bright red skin.

“If you don’t want –”

Alicia grabs Al’s wrist and presses Al’s aloe-smeared fingertips against her chest. Al’s eyebrows raise, and Alicia swears she blushes a little, but Al just spreads the aloe across Alicia’s chest and clears her throat once she’s done.

“Better?” Al says.

“Yeah,” Alicia murmurs. Al twists the lid back on the tin of aloe. “Thank you.”

Al hums in acknowledgement. She sets the aloe on the coffee table then leans back into the couch, exhaling softly. Alicia can’t help but to stare. If Al notices – or cares – she doesn’t outwardly show it.

Alicia jumps at the knock on the door, but Al merely stands and crosses the room.

“Wait,” Alicia calls. “What do I do?”

Al pauses at the door. “Approach it like a job interview,” Al suggests. “Tell all the best parts about yourself.”

Al throws Alicia a wink and unlatches the deadbolt, pulling the door open. Alicia swallows hard as Ginny steps in, but Ginny’s still wearing her friendly smile, and this time, she extends her hand to Alicia.

“I’d like to formally introduce myself,” Ginny says. “My name’s Virginia. Folks around here call me Ginny. And you are?”

“Alicia,” Alicia says, shaking Ginny’s hand. She opts for a firm grasp, and it works out well, because Ginny’s grasp is equally firm. “Alicia Clark.”

“Well, Alicia Clark,” Ginny says, releasing Alicia’s hand. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me about yourself?”

*

Normally Al would leave the room. She did when she first brought Brooklyn in.

“Brooklyn,” Ginny had exclaimed. “Like the bridge.”

Brooklyn smiled, said, “Exactly like the bridge.”

Ginny had sent Al a knowing look, even winked, and told Al, “If you’ll wait just outside the door, please.”

Al’s never been one to disobey orders from Ginny. She’s seen what happens to people that do, and she has a pretty good life here. She wants to keep it that way, and staying on Ginny’s good side is imperative.

This time, though, Ginny does not tell Al to stand outside. Al stands guard at the door, arms crossed over her chest. She reclaims her hat from the decorative table and props it on her head. She can tell Alicia’s trying hard to stay focused on Ginny, to maintain eye contact, but every so often, her eyes glance over to Al for reassurance. Every time, Al nods. She’s doing well, actually. From what Al can tell, Ginny likes her. Al’s pretty confident that Alicia’s just telling the truth, but the truth makes her sound resourceful.

Maybe a little ruthless, when the situation called for it.

_Resourceful_ and _ruthless_ are the R-words that Ginny likes. Al would even add _respectful _to that list.

But _reckless _and _reliant _are R-words that Ginny does not like. Thankfully, Alicia does not seem to be the reliant type – after all, Al found her out there all alone. Reckless, though –

“We have strict rules around here, Alicia,” Ginny says, pulling Al from her thoughts. “If you’re going to join our community, you’re going to have to agree to adhere to them.”

“Of course,” Alicia says.

Ginny smiles and offers Alicia her hand again. “Welcome to the pioneers, Alicia Clark.” They shake hands, and Ginny’s eyes fall on Alicia’s belongings, on the sharpened hunk of gun barrel she’s been using for a weapon. “First things first,” Ginny says, flashing a smile to Al over her shoulder. “We’re going to get you a new weapon. We’re too civilized for a weapon like that.”

“Thank you,” Alicia says, and Al breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

“That’s the spirit,” Ginny says. She claps Alicia on the shoulder and waves Al over from the door. “C’mere, Al.” When Al reaches Ginny, Ginny puts her arm around Al’s shoulder, draws her in closer. “Now you know how we are on space,” Ginny says. She speaks quietly, which is strange, because she’s not speaking quietly enough so that Alicia can’t hear her. Surely, Alicia’s hearing her clear as day.

“I do,” Al says slowly.

“So I’m going to need you to be a team player,” Ginny says, patting Al’s arm, “and I need you to move Alicia into your place, alright? You’ve got two bedrooms, right?”

“No,” Al says bluntly. “I was downgraded after Brooklyn left.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Ginny says. She pulls away from Al and snaps her fingers. “Shoot!”

“It’s okay,” Al says. “Alicia can stay with me until we free up space.”

“Really?” Ginny says. “You would do that for me, Al?”

“Yes,” Al says. Al cracks a lopsided smile. “I’ll even give her the tour of the place.”

“You see, this is why you’re my second-in-command,” Ginny says. “You’re always so cooperative. Alicia!” Ginny spins back to face Alicia, and Alicia raises her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re going to be just right down the hall with Al, alright?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Alicia says, and Al doesn’t know how she does it, but damn, she sounds sincere. “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Alicia adds. Maybe that’s a little much, Al thinks, but it gets Ginny to grin and giddily smack the back of her hand against Al’s bicep.

“Where _do _you find these people, Al?” Ginny wonders aloud. “You always bring in the best of the best. Make sure you take her to the armory and get her fitted, okay? She’s going to be on patrol.”

*

“So that went well,” Alicia says the moment they step outside the apartment complex.

Al grunts. “Did it?”

“Yeah?” Alicia says. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Al stops walking beside a pool. That seems wasteful, Alicia thinks, because it appears to be filled with fresh water. Unless they use that water for something other than swimming. Alicia comes to a cautious halt in front of Al, daring to lock eyes with her. Al’s face is partially shaded by the cowboy hat, and Alicia watches a bead of sweat roll its way down the side of Al’s face and off of her jaw.

“Ginny placed you in my apartment for a reason,” Al says, keeping her voice low. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else around, but Alicia guesses it’s better to be safe than sorry. “She’s testing me,” Al says. “Or possibly punishing me. Maybe both. So I need you to keep your head down, do what you’re told. Don’t cause any trouble.”

“Come on, Al,” Alicia says.

“Swear to me.”

Alicia’s eyes widen, but she says, “I swear.”

Al nods. “Okay. Let’s get to the armory. The quicker we get through this, the quicker we can eat dinner and turn in for the night.”

*

Al hands Alicia a fully loaded Glock and shows her where they keep all the ammunition. On top of that, Al allows Alicia to select a knife for herself off a wall lined with various knives. Alicia selects a basic Bowie knife and twirls it around her hand. She grimaces, and when she realizes Al’s watching her, she says, “I used to have this butterfly knife. I knew some good tricks.”

“Ah.”

Al gives Alicia the tour of the grounds, introduces her to Buck and Hunter at the gate, and explains what being on patrol means.

“Newcomers typically end up on the overnight shift,” Al explains. “Ginny will let you know tomorrow. You get your first night here for free.”

“How lovely,” Alicia says.

Al shoots her a withering look. “Don’t say anything like that to or around Ginny. But especially not to her.”

“You guys are really serious around here,” Alicia says.

“Not always,” Al replies.

“Just most of the time.”

“There’s work to be done.”

*

Alicia’s relieved to find that they don’t all have to eat dinner together. They’re allowed to take their meals back to their apartments. Alicia takes the plate that Ellie hands her, already loaded with food, up to Al’s apartment, just down the hall from Ginny’s. Al fumbles with her keys but manages to get the door unlocked. She flings it open and flicks a switch that turns on a lamp in the living room. Alicia notices how Al is quick to lock the door behind her.

Al’s apartment is, in one way, nearly identical to Ginny’s, but in another way, it’s nothing like Ginny’s. The furniture – a couch and an armchair – is leather, and the coffee table is stacked with books. Frankly, Al’s apartment looks lived in, unlike Ginny’s damn near spotless place, and Alicia almost immediately relaxes.

Al pulls the cowboy hat from her head and drops it onto the kitchen counter. She sets her revolver next to the hat and her plate of food then pops the top button of her shirt. To Alicia’s surprise, Al doesn’t stop. She unbuttons every single button on the charcoal colored shirt then pulls it off her body. She tosses it onto the armchair then heads into the kitchen, pulling one of the two chairs away from the small table. She moves her plate from the counter and takes a seat, exhaling heavily.

Alicia gawks at her for a few moments, gawks at the simple black tank top Al’s wearing, gawks at the unusual pendant hanging off the end of what looks to be a leather cord. The necklace had been entirely hidden by her other shirt, but the little metal pendant stands out against the black cotton of Al’s tank top. Alicia thinks the pendant might be a tiny bridge –

“Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to eat?” Al jokes.

“I – sorry,” Alicia says. She busies herself with shoving food into her mouth as her face heats up. “I, um, didn’t expect you –”

“To take my clothes off in my own apartment?” Al finishes.

“Well, yeah.”

Al grins widely and runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “Alicia, this is the one place I get to relax in, alright? And it is always fucking hot in here during the day, so I’m going to take my clothes off when I get home.”

“All of them?” Alicia teases.

“If you’re lucky.”

Al chuckles to herself as Alicia’s face fully flushes, but Al just continues eating like it’s no big deal.

“I’m glad your apartment looks like someone actually lives in it,” Alicia says. “Ginny’s was a little…bare.”

“Ginny’s incredibly neat,” Al says. She shakes her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I keep my space clean, but not like that.”

Alicia smiles. “I like it,” she comments.

“Good,” Al says. “Considering you’re gonna be living here now.”

“You said you only have one bedroom,” Alicia reminds.

“Yes,” Al says. “You can have it. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“You didn’t,” Al says. “I offered it.”

“Well, I’m declining,” Alicia replies. “The couch looks comfortable.”

“It can get cold out here,” Al warns.

“Al,” Alicia says. “I’m used to sleeping outside. I can handle the cold.”

*

Al cleans up after dinner and spreads out on the couch, only because Alicia takes a seat in the armchair. She flips through one of the books on Al’s coffee table as Al picks up her current read. Al places her hat back on her head and settles in.

“You really like history,” Alicia says.

Al rests her book on her chest and looks over to Alicia, sitting with her legs pulled to her chest. “I like a lot of things, Alicia,” Al replies.

“Right,” Alicia snorts. “Every book on your coffee table just happens to be about history.”

Al smiles. “I have a whole shelf full of books in my room.”

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “You do?”

Al nods and waves her hand toward the hall. “Go see for yourself.”

*

Alicia doesn’t know what to expect from Al’s bedroom. She flips a switch, and a dim light comes on. Al’s room is simplistic. The bed juts out from the center of the far wall. It’s made, but the covers are rumpled. There’s a desk shoved in the corner, stacked with books the way the coffee table is. The dresser’s against the wall next to it. On the wall across from the bed is a large bookshelf, absolutely packed with books. Alicia skims over the titles, pleased to find they’re not _all _history related. There are even fiction books on the shelf. Alicia pulls a few of the books out, careful to hold their place in case Al is a freak with a system.

She puts the book back, unable to stop herself from poking around a bit. The closet door is ajar, and Alicia peers into it at Al’s wardrobe. Lots of black pants, a few pairs of well-worn jeans, lots of shirts with buttons. There’s a shelf above Al’s clothes, holding two other cowboy hats, nearly identical to the one she wore today, and a couple of baseball hats. Alicia glances toward the doorway, but there are no signs that Al’s going to leave the living room. Alicia nudges the door open a little wider and reaches for one of the ball caps.

It takes Alicia a moment, but she names the sports team represented on the hat. The stylized _A _is that of the Atlanta Braves.

So Al’s from Georgia? Or she just likes Atlanta’s baseball team?

Alicia puts the hat back with the others and backs away from the closet. She shuffles toward the open door and sticks her head out it, staring toward the living room. She can see Al’s legs hanging off the end of the couch, but that’s it.

Alicia walks over to Al’s desk, examines the books stacked on top. These books aren’t about history. They’re not fiction. They’re about filmmaking. Documentary filmmaking, really. Alicia’s eyebrows pull together. She pulls the top drawer of the desk open and searches its contents. Three notebooks, two full of what must be Al’s messy scrawl – it’s basically unreadable. The third notebook is only half full. Along with the notebooks, Alicia finds a switchblade and…a wallet?

Alicia bypasses the switchblade in favor of picking up the wallet. She flips it open, going for the nearest card. Alicia doesn’t remember the last time she touched a credit card. This one expired last year, and the cardholder name is _Althea Szewczek-Przygocki_. Althea? And what’s with that last name? Alicia couldn’t pronounce that to save her life. Alicia tucks the credit card back in and wiggles free a Georgia driver’s license. There’s an Atlanta address printed on it. Al’s an organ donor. Or she was. She’s 5’9” and she took a good photo, and _no one _takes good driver’s license photos.

Al’s birthday is September 21, 1983, which is a few months away. And that makes her – Alicia quickly does the math – twenty-nine. She’s only five years older than Alicia. Alicia stares at the license a little longer then returns it carefully to its slot. Alicia pulls five twenty dollar bills out of the wallet, and she realizes she doesn’t know the last time she touched cash. The bills are faded, and frankly, they’re useless.

Tucked behind the bills, though, are two photographs. Alicia hesitates, glancing over her shoulder. She puts the bills back and pulls out the photos. The first one is of Al and a man that’s a head taller than her – and Al’s 5’9” according to her license, so this guy must be really tall. He’s got his arm slung around Al’s shoulders, and they’re both grinning. They look alike, the way siblings do. Same sort of facial structure. Same dark hair. Same goofy smile. They appear to be standing in a backyard of some sort, a small child playing on a blanket in the grass in the back corner of the photo with another woman. Maybe the man’s – Al’s brother’s? – wife?

Alicia puts the picture back in the wallet and turns her attention to the other one. It takes Alicia a second to identify Al as the woman on the left. Her hair’s still short, but it’s bleached blonde. Al’s grinning, holding a shorter, equally blonde woman against her, though the woman’s hair is longer, elegantly styled. Alicia squints at the photo, at the woman’s hand resting against Al’s chest, at the suspicious glint of light off her finger.

God, how could she be so _stupid_? Even though the shorter woman’s dress isn’t white, it’s obviously a wedding dress. And Al is obviously in a tailored suit. _Jesus Christ_, this is Al’s wedding photo. Alicia swallows hard and puts the photo back, suddenly feeling like she’s intruded too much. She tucks the wallet back into the drawer, carefully rearranging the items so they’re the way she found them.

Then she sees it. In the far back corner of the drawer. It’s easy to miss, but once Alicia spots it, she can’t stop herself from pulling it out. It’s a small box. The kind of box that holds jewelry. Alicia’s heart hammers in her throat, but she makes herself open the box. Her eyes fall on the simple band, maybe made of platinum. Alicia picks it up carefully, stares at numbers engraved on the inside.

_9.12.2008_

Alicia places the ring back in the box, and her eyes finally fall on the other ring. The stone on the band isn’t a diamond, the way Alicia expects. It’s a ruby or something – the first thing that pops into Alicia’s mind is _it’s exactly the color of blood_. Alicia nearly drops the open box, snapping it shut at the last moment. It clatters to the desk, and Alicia rushes out of the bedroom, forgetting to put the rings back, forgetting to shut the drawer.

Alicia catches a glimpse of Al sprawled out on the couch, hat pulled down over her face, book laying open on her chest. Al’s jaw hangs slightly ajar, and she snores softly. Alicia darts into the bathroom, slamming the door shut accidentally. She flinches and punches the lock, breathing quickly – too quickly. She sees the terrified look on her face in the mirror, and she clutches at her chest as she continues to breathe too fast.

She forces herself to lower her arms and plants her hands against the marble countertop, staring down at the sink as she tries to get her breathing to slow. Her heart beats too fast, and she swallows as her eyes land on the heart she tattooed over Matt’s drawing on her left arm. Alicia remembers doing it with perfect clarity, remembers Matt drawing it haphazardly on her arm before they departed. She remembers the fluttery feeling it left in her stomach as she headed home, unable to stop looking at it.

She remembers crying while she inked it into her skin permanently. She remembers saying goodbye to Matt, thinking she’d see him again, not knowing what the bite would do to him.

Alicia clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle the oncoming sob. She squeezes her eyes shut and leans into the counter, her entire body shaking.

The knock on the door is gentle, but Alicia screams into her hand, mostly in surprise.

“Alicia?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story continues my new tradition of writing an entire project before beginning to post it so I don't leave a work unfinished for an indeterminable amount of time (I know I have an ongoing WIP, and I WILL finish it...at some point). So this is entirely written and will be up soon.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	2. newcomer

Al jolts awake, but all she sees is darkness. A loud sound definitely woke her, though. Al grunts and pulls the cowboy hat off her face, setting it onto the coffee table. She blinks away the disorientation and slowly starts to sit up, grabbing the book off her chest. She drops it onto the table with her hat and gets to her feet, scanning her apartment for anything out of the ordinary.

The armchair is empty, but the last thing Al remembers before knocking out is giving Alicia permission to take a look at the books in her room. Al glances toward the front door, relaxing a little when she sees the knob and deadbolt are locked. Still, she grabs her revolver off the kitchen counter. Just in case. The windows are closed, unbroken, and the door that leads to the balcony is locked. Al creeps down the hall, all her senses on high alert.

Al pokes her head into her bedroom. The light’s still on, but Alicia’s gone. Al’s eyebrows pull together, and she steps fully into her room. The top drawer of her desk is wide open, exposing its contents. Al exhales heavily, pushing her hand through her hair when she spots the little box on top of the desk. Al jams the revolver into her waistband and gently picks the box up. She opens it, just to ensure both rings are still there. They are. Al tucks the box back into the drawer, quickly checking that everything is in its place, then slides the drawer shut, shaking her head to herself.

Stupid. She should’ve known.

Since Alicia’s not in Al’s room, she’s either out on the balcony or in the bathroom. And the balcony door was locked. Al rubs at the back of her neck and quietly approaches the bathroom door. The shower’s not on. Al presses her ear against the wood, listening. She hears something faint, and her eyebrows pull together. Al lifts her hand, raps her knuckles against the door. Al jumps at the muffled scream on the other side, pressing her palm flat against the door to keep her balance.

“Alicia?” Al questions. When a few seconds pass in silence, Al knocks her fist against the door. “Hey! Open up,” Al orders. She presses her ear back to the door, straining to hear anything, but Alicia has gone totally silent. “Alicia! Open it, or I’ll kick it down.”

Ginny would kill her. Al can’t kick the door down, not unless she wants to repair it overnight herself. If she doesn’t do any serious damage. She doesn’t think she has anything to pop the lock with, though.

Al hops back as the lock clicks, but Alicia doesn’t open the door. Al grasps the knob and flings it open herself, stepping into the small space. Face set into a scowl, Al’s eyes bounce around the room, searching for anything out of place. Her razor’s still in its spot in the shower. There’s no traces of blood. Her eyes land on Alicia last. Alicia’s eyes are wide, cheeks damp, and frankly, she looks terrified.

Al raises her hands, slowly, palms facing Alicia. “It’s okay,” Al says softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

Alicia holds out her left hand, but Al doesn’t know if the gesture means to stay back or if Alicia’s reaching for her. Al’s eyes are drawn to the dark ink on the inside of Alicia’s forearm, and she stares for a long moment trying to decipher what it is. Then it hits her. It’s a heart. A strange, artsy kind of heart, but a heart nonetheless. And it looks like a tattoo.

Al takes a tentative step forward, gauging Alicia’s reaction. Alicia doesn’t react negatively, so Al takes two more steps and touches her palm to the back of Alicia’s outstretched hand. Alicia’s eyes close, gently, and Al slides her hand further up Alicia’s arm, grazing her fingertips across the tattoo. Alicia, perhaps subconsciously, turns her arm toward Al, giving Al a better view of the heart.

Al traces her fingertip along the outside of the heart, working her way in. Alicia’s breathing begins to slow; her eyes stay closed. Al’s finger reaches the inner most part of the tattoo, and she traces it backward then drags her fingertips down to Alicia’s palm. Alicia inhales sharply, and her hand twitches in Al’s.

“You okay?” Al asks quietly.

“Better,” Alicia whispers.

Al hums. “Good.”

Alicia’s eyes open. They lock with Al’s, and Al’s breath hitches in her throat. Alicia inhales shakily, sways for a moment, and grasps onto Al’s bicep to keep herself steady. Then Alicia cracks a small smile.

“You find time to work out around here?” Alicia jokes weakly.

Al’s lips twist into a smile, and she murmurs, “Please, I’m not even flexing.”

Alicia chuckles, and her hand slips from Al’s bicep down toward her forearm. Alicia’s fingertip grazes a rougher patch of skin, and her eyes fall to Al’s inner forearm. Just like Alicia’s left arm is permanently marked, so is Al’s, but not with ink. Alicia’s smile falters, but she traces her index finger down the vertical scar, starting somewhere at Al’s mid-forearm and tracing all the way down to her inner wrist. Al watches Alicia trace her way down to her wrist, where the straight line ends.

Alicia’s eyes lift to meet Al’s again, but Al keeps her expression unreadable. Alicia knows. It’s written all over her face. Before Alicia can even think to say anything, Al simply says, “It’s old.”

Alicia nods. She chews on the inside of her cheek, drags her fingers from Al’s wrist over Al’s palm, fingers. Alicia lets her hand fall to her side and exhales softly.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia says.

“Don’t be sorry –”

“No,” Alicia cuts in. “I’m sorry for going through your shit. I shouldn’t have – I don’t know why I invaded your privacy like that.”

Al nods and jams her hands into her pockets. “What did you see?” Al asks after a moment.

Alicia flinches. “Um. The rings – shit, I left them on the desk –”

“I took care of it,” Al assures her. “What else?”

“Your license,” Alicia admits. “The pictures in your wallet. You have an Atlanta Braves hat in your closet –” Alicia falls silent as a wistful smile spreads across Al’s face.

“I don’t really get the opportunity to wear baseball hats anymore,” Al says.

“You’ve made a full transition to cowboy hats.”

“Not by choice,” Al says. She pulls her hands out of her pockets and pushes them through her hair wearily.

“The pictures,” Alicia ventures. “They were, um –”

“My brother,” Al says. “Jesse. His wife. My niece. And the other one –” Al shakes her head and looks away from Alicia, opting to stare at herself in the mirror instead. She rubs at her jaw, exhaling through her nose like she’s in physical pain or something.

“You don’t have to –”

“The other picture is of my wife,” Al says.

“Your wife.”

Al nods. Her jaw clenches, unclenches, but she meets Alicia’s gaze. “She’s been dead for a while,” Al says. “They’ve all been dead for a while.”

Alicia reaches up and grabs onto Al’s shoulder. The next thing Al knows, Alicia uses her hold on her shoulder to pull herself in and tuck her head beneath Al’s chin, loosely linking her arms around Al’s waist. Al breathes out and secures her arms around Alicia’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia murmurs into Al’s chest.

“We all lose people.”

“I know.”

*

Alicia should be embarrassed by how she’s clinging to Al, in Al’s bathroom, after she’s snooped through Al’s shit and had a mini panic attack. Al doesn’t rush her, just rests her chin against the top of Alicia’s head and holds on.

It’s strange, to think that Alicia only met Al this morning. Alicia feels like she knows her.

“It’s getting late,” Al murmurs. “We need to sleep. There’s work to do tomorrow.”

Alicia manages a small nod against Al’s chest and forces herself to let go. Alicia steps back, putting more space between them. Thankfully, Al doesn’t linger. She leaves the bathroom, taking a right and heading back toward the living room.

“Hey,” Alicia calls, jogging after her. “The couch is mine.”

Al turns back, wearing a perplexed expression. “You interrupted my nap,” Al points out. “Let me get back to it.”

“No,” Alicia says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want the couch.”

Al smiles and stands straight. She mirrors Alicia’s stance, crossing her arms over her chest. Alicia’s eyes fall to Al’s arms, to the muscle Al must’ve put on from years of hard physical labor within the pioneers’ settlement. Alicia’s arms fall to her side. This isn’t a fight she’ll win.

“Fine,” Alicia says. “But you really want me to go back in your room? I already went through some of your shit.”

Al shrugs. “You’re not going to find anything worse than that, I’m afraid.”

Alicia grimaces. “Fine,” she agrees. “Sleep on the couch. Whatever.”

*

Al bolts upright. It’s completely dark, and for a moment, she’s not sure where she is. At least, until she rolls and lands on her ass on the floor. Al groans, but she has no choice but to recover quickly. There’s screaming coming from her bedroom. Like, the _actively being murdered _kind of screaming, so Al scrambles to her feet, snatches the revolver off the coffee table, and sprints to her room, throwing the door open so quickly that it bangs against the wall.

Al flips the light on, revolver aimed vaguely toward the bed, but no one’s in here except Alicia. And she’s asleep. Al leans against the doorframe and exhales, willing herself to relax. She shoves the revolver into the back of her pants and crosses over to Alicia. She grasps onto her shoulder cautiously, afraid Alicia’s going to wake up swinging.

“Hey!” Al shouts over her. “Hey, wake up!”

Alicia’s eyes pop open, and Al jumps back, but Alicia doesn’t react at first. Alicia blinks.

“Where am I?” she asks dumbly.

“Paradise Ridge,” Al answers. When Alicia gives her a blank stare, Al elaborates, “The apartment complex – the pioneers’ settlement – is named Paradise Ridge.”

“Oh,” Alicia says. She pushes herself up and sits back against the headboard. “Why am I here?” she asks.

Al cracks a weary smile. “It’s a little late to be getting philosophical, Alicia.”

Alicia shakes her head and seems to figure it out herself. “Sorry,” she finally says.

Al hesitates. “We had a long day,” she says.

Alicia throws the covers back and stands. Al’s eyebrows raise. She hadn’t expected Alicia to sleep in her underwear, but here they are.

“Where are you going?” Al asks, forcing herself to follow after Alicia as she storms out of the room.

“I – I have to get out of here,” Alicia says.

“You can’t,” Al replies, shoving herself between Alicia and the exit. “You definitely can’t go out there in your underwear.”

Alicia glares up at her. “You can’t force me to stay,” she says. Something akin to horror dances across her face. “Unless…wait. Am I even allowed to leave?”

“Of course,” Al says indignantly – and quickly. Maybe too quickly. “People have left before,” Al says. Then she squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. She wasn’t supposed to say that.

“Then move,” Alicia says.

“You can’t leave in the middle of the night,” Al blurts. “And not in your underwear. Ginny will have a fit.”

*

Alicia’s about five seconds away from throwing Al through the door. She’s not sure she could actually do it, but she’s willing to try. The nightmare’s still fresh in her mind, her throat still raw from screaming.

“Be honest, Al,” Alicia says quietly. “If I wake up in the morning and tell Ginny I want to leave, go back to my life outside of the pioneers, would she let me go?”

Al stares at her warily, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Maybe I should’ve tried to convince you not to come here in the first place,” Al admits.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Don’t push Ginny,” Al says softly. “Follow that piece of advice, and you’ll be fine. You won’t even want to leave.”

Alicia exhales heavily and lets her eyes close for a moment. “These other people that have left – why’d they go?”

Al flinches. “Really, only one person has left.”

“Only one?”

Al wears a pained expression that Alicia can’t entirely decipher. “Only one left alive,” Al says slowly. “And she only got out because…well, I helped her escape.”

“What?” Alicia exclaims. “Are you –?”

“Shh!” Al hisses, clamping her hand over Alicia’s mouth. Alicia tries to shove Al off of her, but Al’s stronger and doesn’t budge. Not at first. Alicia considers biting her, but then Al pulls away, shaking her head. “Ginny’s right down the hall,” Al reminds her. “We don’t need her coming here to ask what we’re doing up at –” she pauses to check the clock, “three in the morning.”

“Start talking,” Alicia says through her teeth.

Al sighs but motions toward the couch. She throws her pillow and blanket onto the armchair and drops down beside the armrest. Alicia watches her for a moment then goes to join her, sitting stiffly to Al’s left.

“Her name’s Brooklyn,” Al explains. “She came into the settlement with me, the way you did. Sort of. We weren’t here at the time. It was, uh, two years ago? We weren’t even in Texas.” Al fidgets with the pendant hanging off the leather cord around her neck as she speaks. She stares into space rather than at Alicia, like she’s lost in some kind of memory. Maybe not a good one.

“Why’d she leave?” Alicia asks bluntly.

Al glances Alicia’s way, but her eyes return to the door across the room. “She didn’t approve of our methods,” Al says wryly.

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “Your methods?”

Al waves off Alicia’s comment. “I agree with her, to an extent. Life here can be…harsh, especially if you aren’t…properly adapted.”

Alicia’s jaw hangs open. “You need to explain yourself, Al,” Alicia insists. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Brooklyn was uncomfortable,” Al says. “I tried to convince her not to go, but she was going to do it no matter what, so I – I couldn’t let her try. She wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near the gates. So I devised a distraction so she could slip out, and when Ginny figured out what I did –”

Alicia’s eyes widen as Al tugs her tank top down enough to expose the top of a scar that begins over the swell of her right breast and disappears down beneath the tank top.

“She did that?” Alicia breathes.

Al clears her throat, shifts the tank top back over the scar. “She was angry. I expected her to kill me, but…” Al shakes her head. “I don’t know. She spared me. I was already her second-in-command at the time. So she just swung her knife in front of everyone. I guess blood had to be drawn or something. But ever since I got Brooklyn out, Ginny hasn’t been the same with me.”

“But you brought me here.”

Al sighs, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I thought it was better than leaving you out there alone to die,” Al says. “You can adapt to our way of life.”

Alicia gets to her feet. “Obviously you brought me here under false pretenses!”

Al stands, too, and pulls the revolver from her waistband. She sets it on the table, and Alicia can’t help but wonder if it’s supposed to be a vague threat. “You came here willingly,” Al reminds. “I didn’t force you to come with me.”

“But I didn’t know! I mean, I _still _don’t know!”

“Adapt or die,” Al says, as if it’s simple. “From what I’ve seen so far, I think you’re going to be just fine.”

“You haven’t seen _anything_.”

“You handled yourself well with Ginny,” Al says coolly. “And you wouldn’t be alive if you couldn’t kill the dead efficiently. You’ll do well on patrol.”

“And even if I do fit in well, if I still want to leave, can I?” Alicia asks.

Al presses her lips together. “You’d have to take it up with Ginny.”

“Ginny could’ve killed you,” Alicia points out. “Sure seems like she tried. She could’ve easily cut you deep enough. You had to _sneak_ someone who wanted to leave out. Ginny clearly does not –”

“I’d be careful with what you say about Ginny,” Al warns. “Even to me. It’s best to stay quiet about it.”

God, Alicia misses Strand, Nick, and Luci. At least she knew where she stood with them. Al grabs her pillow and blanket from the armchair and throws it back on the couch.

“I’d get some sleep,” Al suggests. “Ginny’s going to put you to work in the morning.”

Al places her cowboy hat over her face, and that ends the conversation. Alicia’s halfway down the hall before she spins on her heels and hurries back into the living room. She yanks the hat off Al’s face, flinging it across the room. Al sits upright, protest dying on her lips when Alicia leans in really close, so close, their noses nearly touch.

“You snuck Brooklyn out of the pioneers’ settlement at a big personal cost,” Alicia says quietly. “Obviously you knew there’d be consequences. So why would you do it?”

“Alicia,” Al says evenly. “You should get out of my face.”

“I think I know why,” Alicia says. “You and Brooklyn were a thing, right? Or you were together or you at least had feelings for her. Am I right?”

Al grabs a fistful of Alicia’s shirt and pushes her back, getting off the couch without releasing her hold on Alicia’s shirt. “I’d be careful with accusations like that,” Al says. Her jaw clenches, and Alicia smirks. She breaks Al’s hold on her shirt and raises her hands in surrender.

“But I’m right,” Alicia says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so worked up about it.”

Al doesn’t say anything; Alicia watches her jaw clench and unclench a few times before Al grabs her by the shoulder. Her grip is firm but not too tight, just enough to force Alicia to start walking back toward the bedroom. Alicia caves, lets Al guide her back to the room. She pushes Al’s arm away from her when they get there, not bothering to hide the irritation she feels.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Alicia says. Even though Al’s silence has made it very clear that she’s not going to broach the subject of Brooklyn anymore, Alicia keeps trying. “At least you got her out alive, right?” Alicia continues. “I mean, everyone I’ve ever loved is dead.”

“You’ve already gone through everything I have left of my old life,” Al snaps. “You know about my family, my wife, so I don’t think it’s unfair of me to say that Brooklyn is none of your fucking business, Alicia.”

*

Alicia tries to stare Al down, but Al has faced off with people who posed a bigger threat than Alicia, so Alicia won’t win this, either. Al breaks eye contact first, though, when she turns to leave. She’s not even three steps out the door before Alicia shouts, “You know, you’re the only person I’ve got in this fucking place!”

Al stops walking, runs her hand through her hair, and turns back toward her bedroom. “You should meet some people, then,” Al says. “I’m Ginny’s second-in-command. I do a lot of shit around here. I can’t be with you every second of the day.”

“Even though she did _that_?” Alicia questions, making a slashing motion over her chest.

“I’m lucky that’s all I got,” Al says through her teeth. “People die for less.”

“Maybe here they do,” Alicia replies. “But there’s a whole different world out there, Al.”

Al’s expression hardens. “Now you sound like Brooklyn,” Al says. “That’s the kind of talk that earns you a bullet to the skull.”

“Why?”

“Don’t challenge Ginny’s command,” Al says. “Don’t challenge the way she runs our settlement. Keep your head down, do what you’re told, and you’ll be fine. You’ll get three meals a day. Regular showers. A bed to sleep in. You get to help build a society that will outlast the dead.”

“Sounds like a load of bullshit.”

Al holds her arms out, gesturing around them. “You’re in an apartment right now,” Al says. “You ate a full meal for dinner, probably your first in a while, right? You’re a little thin, Alicia. You showered. We take care of our own, but if you’re going to be one of us, you have to act like it. Don’t challenge Ginny. Don’t challenge the way things are done. Do that, and you’ll have everything to gain and nothing to lose.”

“And what about you?” Alicia questions. “Or the other people that live here?”

Al blinks. “I’m doing just fine, Alicia. Most of the people here do just fine, but the ones that come in and think they can challenge authority…”

Al shrugs.

“They end up dead?” Alicia finishes. “Is that right?”

Al gives a curt nod. “I don’t care if you sleep,” Al says, “but I have to. I need to be up in a few hours.”

“Take your bed,” Alicia commands. “I’m intruding enough as it is. Drop the whole polite thing you had going on and sleep here.”

Al shakes her head. “I’d rather not have you wake up screaming in the living room. Ginny will be in here in three seconds.”

“And?”

“And I’d rather not have Ginny in my apartment,” Al finishes quietly. “Just sleep here.”

*

Al tries to walk away again, but Alicia rushes forward and grabs her wrist, yanking her back. Al comes to a stop, but she just sighs and looks wearily to Alicia. Alicia balks. She half expected a fight, but Al’s energy from earlier is gone. She doesn’t pull out of Alicia’s grasp, doesn’t stand in a way that accentuates the height advantage she has over Alicia. Alicia swallows hard. Everything she’s deduced about the pioneers so far from the vague details Al has given her scares her as much as it confuses her. It occurs to Alicia that, since Al is Ginny’s second-in-command, she should be equally afraid of Al.

But she’s seen firsthand that Al had a life before this, that Al was a person with people she loved – people that loved her. Al’s lost just as much – if not more – than Alicia has. Al may be Ginny’s second-in-command, but based on what Alicia has seen, Al’s just as alone as she is.

Al’s eyebrows raise. “Alicia? Are you just going to stare at me?”

“Come to bed with me,” Alicia blurts. Unfortunately, Alicia doesn’t realize what that sounds like until the words have already left her mouth. Her face blazes red, and she stammers, “I mean – you really need to sleep, and you won’t let me sleep on the couch, but there’s no reason we can’t _both _sleep in the bed – I mean, it’s big enough –”

Al gently peels Alicia’s fingers off her wrist, and Alicia shuts up. “Don’t worry about me,” Al says.

“I’m not,” Alicia admits. She rubs at the back of her neck, wincing. “I can’t sleep in there,” she says quietly. “I’ve slept in trees, abandoned vehicles, abandoned buildings, you name it, all by myself for months. More often than not, I wake up to walkers trying to get to me. You don’t get it. I physically can’t sleep in that bed by myself. I tried. You saw how that went.”

Al exhales but nods. She motions for Alicia to get back into the room, and Alicia takes up the nearest side of the bed. She gets under the covers and lays her head back on the pillow. Her eyes already feel heavy, and her body threatens to shut down. Al’s presence in the room is enough to make Alicia feel like it’s safe to sleep.

Al takes a seat on the other side of the bed. She crosses her legs and leans back against the headboard before she says, “I’ll stay. You go to sleep.”

“You need to sleep, too.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

*

Alicia, thankfully, falls asleep quickly. Almost immediately, actually. With Alicia asleep, Al can admit to herself that she was right. Al doesn’t know what it’s like to have to sleep somewhere new, somewhere dangerous and potentially indefensible, every night. Even in those few months before she was picked up by Ginny, Al slept in an armored tank, day or night. In this world, Al has never once felt unprotected when it’s been time to sleep.

But Alicia –

Al bets if she jabbed Alicia in the arm, she’d spring awake. Alicia seems to be right, though, about the screaming. She sleeps peacefully until the sun rises.

*

Alicia wakes up knowing where she is this time. She lifts her head from the pillow, inhaling deeply. The bedroom door is wide open, and Alicia can see natural light out in the hallway, probably coming from the glass door that leads to the balcony in the living room. She looks over, surprised to see Al’s still there, sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the headboard. Her eyes are closed, though, and she’s very obviously asleep.

Alicia drops her head back down to the pillow, inhales the scent of…lavender, maybe? Some kind of nice smelling detergent, at least. Al keeps up with her laundry, that’s for sure.

When Alicia wakes up a second time, Al’s gone. Alicia takes that to mean that she should be getting up soon and flings the covers back, yawning. It’s a little cold in the apartment, but Alicia figures that’ll change as the day wears on. Alicia looks down at herself, at the faded red flannel she’d been given with its sleeves pushed past her elbows, at the fact that she’s otherwise in her underwear. She realizes she has nothing new to wear. Nothing clean, at least.

She’s no stranger to wearing dirty clothes, but that doesn’t seem to fit in with the pioneer image. She drags her fingers through her hair and shuffles out of the bedroom. For some odd reason, she kind of feels like she’s doing the walk of shame. She shakes that thought off and figures she should find Al and ask her what she’s supposed to wear for her first real day with the pioneers. She assumes Al’s probably in the kitchen eating breakfast or something, but just as Alicia’s walking past the bathroom door, it swings open.

Alicia jumps, clutching at her chest, and Al visibly startles, her whole body tensing. Alicia stands frozen outside of the bathroom, and Al stands frozen in the doorway, steam from her shower billowing behind her. Al’s hair is still wet, and she’s wearing even less than Alicia. Alicia can’t help but to graze her eyes down Al’s body. The scar left over from Ginny’s assault curves from the top of her breast, disappearing beneath Al’s bra and reappearing down the center of her chest, ending just before it reaches Al’s stomach.

Alicia realizes her eyes have been locked on Al’s chest for way too long, and she tears them away, daring to meet Al’s gaze. If Al noticed – or was bothered by – Alicia’s staring, she doesn’t let it show.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Alicia finally blurts. “Except yesterday’s clothes.”

Al nods and motions for Alicia to follow her. Alicia trails behind Al, watches as she goes to her closet and first pulls a shirt out for herself. Al slides it on and swiftly buttons it, adjusting the collar. She puts on a pair of pants then crosses the room to her dresser and digs out a plain black shirt. She tosses it to Alicia.

“You’ll have to wear your pants from yesterday for now,” Al says. “My pants won’t fit you, but Ginny will find you more clothes soon.”

Alicia nods. “Thanks. Hey, wait! How much time do we have?”

“We’ve got an hour before we have to meet with Ginny,” Al informs. “Should be enough time for you to shower, get dressed, and eat.”

Alicia does just that. She pulls Al’s shirt over her head and rolls the sleeves to her mid forearm, careful to keep the heart tattoo concealed by the sleeve. She pulls her hair back then heads out to join Al in the kitchen. Al’s seated at the table, halfway through eating an apple. She swallows her mouthful then invites Alicia to help herself.

Al, Alicia can’t help but notice, looks more like she did yesterday when she first found Alicia. Shirt buttoned to her neck. Cowboy hat on her head. Revolver at her hip. Alicia hasn’t seen her smile once since they woke up. She’s back to being all business.

“Where are we meeting Ginny?” Alicia asks.

“Wherever Ginny wants to meet,” Al replies. “She’ll come to us.”

*

Al can mostly predict Ginny’s actions by now. She knocks on the door right at the time Al expects her to, and Al hurries to pull the door open as Alicia wraps up her breakfast. Ginny stands in the entrance, a wide smile on her face, with a sack slung over her shoulder.

“I do hope Alicia’s here,” Ginny says brightly. “We’ve found some clothes for her.”

“She’s here,” Al says. Al glances over her shoulder toward Alicia. “Your problem’s solved,” Al calls. She waves Alicia over, and Alicia cautiously makes her way to Al’s side. Ginny holds the sack of clothes out to Alicia, and she takes them.

“Thank you,” Alicia says.

Ginny nods, still smiling, and puts her hands on her hips. “I hope your first night here was a good one,” she says. “I trust Al showed you the best pioneer hospitality.”

“She did,” Alicia says without hesitation. Al is careful to conceal her reaction to Alicia’s lie, but Ginny accepts it without question.

“Great!” Ginny exclaims. “Alicia, I’m going to have our head of security show you how patrol works. You’re going to be taking the afternoon shift, from noon to five.”

“Sounds great,” Alicia says with an unusual amount of enthusiasm.

Ginny beams and nods at Al. “You found a good one, Al,” she says. She waves Alicia along. “She’s right there at the end of the hall,” Ginny informs. “Name’s Isabelle. Stay by her side today. And don’t worry too much, okay? Isabelle’s a good friend of Al’s.”

Alicia shoots a surprised look Al’s way, but then she nods at Ginny and takes off down the hall, knife sheathed at one hip, gun holstered at the other. Al watches her join Isabelle at the end, and Isabelle, always the professional, holds her hand out. Alicia shakes it, and a faint smile even flickers on Isabelle’s face. Isabelle’s eyes seek out Al from across the hall, and Al tips her hat in acknowledgement.

Al turns her attention back to Ginny. “You gave her an afternoon patrol?” she questions.

Ginny shrugs. “I sure did.”

“Newcomers normally get the overnight shift.”

“I know that,” Ginny says. “I thought I’d try something different this time.”

Al hums and adjusts the hat on her head. “What game are you playing at, Ginny?”

“No game,” Ginny says cheerfully. “Consider it a new strategy.”

“Right,” Al says. “So what’s on the agenda for today? I know the fence still needs to be repaired –”

“We can worry about that later,” Ginny says, clapping Al on the arm. “You mind?” Ginny motions back toward Al’s apartment, and Al shakes her head _no_, even though, yes, she does mind. She steps backward into her apartment, allowing Ginny to step in and shut the door behind her. “There’s a few things I’d like to discuss.”

*

Isabelle’s tall – taller than Al, even – and her legs are longer, so Alicia struggles to keep up. She’s dressed nothing like the other pioneers Alicia has seen so far – namely, Al and Ginny, who have the whole cowboy-western type vibe going on. Isabelle doesn’t wear a hat, or shirts with buttons. In fact, she seems rather laidback even though her posture is perfect. Black shirt beneath a black leather jacket, black jeans, black boots. There’s a handgun holstered at her hip, similar to Alicia’s.

“You’re lucky,” Isabelle says. She seems to realize that Alicia can’t keep up and slows her pace. “Ginny’s going easy on you. The noon to five shift is easy. Broad daylight, plenty of people around to help if something goes wrong.”

“Why am I not on the overnight shift?” Alicia asks.

Isabelle shrugs. “Ask Ginny.”

Alicia grunts. She will do no such thing. Isabelle seems to understand this, based on the smirk that crosses her face.

“I’m guessing Al gave you the tour yesterday?” Isabelle questions.

“Yes.”

Isabelle nods. “Do you remember any of it?”

“Kind of.”

“Great. I’ll give you a real tour this time.”

Alicia relaxes a little. Isabelle seems cool, so far. And she’s friends with Al, which maybe shouldn’t put Alicia at ease, but it does anyway. Isabelle holds the door for Alicia, and Alicia steps out, waiting for Isabelle to reclaim the lead.

“So,” Alicia says weakly. “You’re friends with Al?”

Isabelle hums. “Yep.”

“Good friends?”

Isabelle grins. “You could say that.”

“Ginny said you’re good friends.”

“We’re well acquainted,” Isabelle says, smiling like it’s some kind of inside joke she has with just herself. “We’ve both been with the pioneers for a long time. Longer than anyone else except Ginny and a few others.”

“Does Al normally pick up random strangers off the road and bring them here?” Alicia asks.

Isabelle actually laughs and shakes her head. “No. Not often. She’s done it before, though.”

Brooklyn, Alicia assumes, but Isabelle doesn’t elaborate, and Alicia doesn’t ask her to. “How often do you take new members?” Alicia asks instead.

Isabelle clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and thinks for a moment. “When it’s convenient, really,” she says. “Our base moves occasionally – every few months or whenever our current spot is no longer maintainable. It’s really a matter of luck when we pick up new people, because most of the time, we’re pretty stationary except when we’re between moves."

“Oh. So how long have you been here? At Paradise Ridge?”

“Al didn’t answer your questions, did she?” Isabelle says.

“I didn’t think to ask them until now.”

Isabelle nods. “We’ve been here for a good seven months or so already. This place is a lot more sustainable than most of our other bases. You can ask more questions later. First, let me show you how being on patrol works.”

*

“Have a seat, Al,” Ginny invites, waving her hand over the space the couch occupies, as if she’s in her own apartment instead of Al’s. Al knows better than to argue with her. Al drops down on the middle of the couch and folds her hands together in her lap, sitting up straight. Ginny makes her way over and pushes Al’s books to one end of the coffee table, planting herself on the table directly across from Al. She pulls the hat from her head, sets it next to her, then puts her elbows against her knees and leans forward. Al refuses to back away, to put any extra space between them. That’s as good as letting Ginny win.

“What’s up?” Al finally asks when Ginny doesn’t start talking.

“I’d like you to walk me through yesterday’s events,” Ginny says. “From the moment you left our settlement until the moment you got back with Alicia.”

Al’s eyebrows raise. “There’s not much to tell,” Al says evenly. “I found her on the road heading for us, so it’s likely she’d have reached us on her own eventually. She was completely alone, so I took her into town with me, got the antifreeze, and offered to bring her back.”

Ginny hums and nods. She stands, right in front of Al, and plucks the hat from Al’s head. She turns it over in her hands a couple of times, admiring the stitching. She drops it on the table behind her and stares down at Al as she leans back to be able to stare up at Ginny in return.

“Be honest with me for a minute, Al,” Ginny says calmly. “We aren’t going to have a repeat of the Brooklyn fiasco, are we?”

“What?” Al says. “No. Absolutely not.”

Ginny presses her lips together and nods. “I want to believe you, Al,” she says. “I really do. But I’m beginning to sense a potential pattern here.”

“A pattern?” Al questions. “I’ve only ever brought two people in here.”

“And you helped the first one sneak out in the middle of the night after creating a distraction to divert attention from her,” Ginny reminds. “What happens if, God forbid, Alicia wants to leave, too? Are you going to let your feelings get in the way of your judgment again?”

Al stands abruptly, but there’s not much space between the couch and coffee table, meaning there’s not much space between Al and Ginny. They’re nearly even in height, and Al can’t help but shrink back as much as the couch behind her allows. Her revolver is at her hip, but even if she could draw it, she’d never be able to get a shot off. She’d be dead long before then.

“Are you insinuating,” Al says quietly, “that I’m going to develop feelings for Alicia that prevent me from doing my duties within the pioneers?”

Ginny puts her hands on her hips and grins. “Well, Al, it’s happened once before. Can you blame me for being concerned?”

“That was different.”

“Was it?” Ginny questions, tilting her head to the side. If she notices how uncomfortable Al is being this close to her, she doesn’t show it. “Answer me this, Al: why is it that you only seem interested in bringing beautiful women back to our settlement?”

Al’s jaw clenches and unclenches. “Coincidence?”

Ginny chuckles. “I don’t believe in coincidence, Al.” She reaches up and swipes Al’s hair back from her face. It takes all of Al’s willpower not to flinch. “You couldn’t hide what was going on between you and Brooklyn,” Ginny reminds. Her fingers linger at Al’s hairline, gently caressing their way down the side of her face toward her jaw. Al doesn’t dare duck away from Ginny’s hand, as much as she wants to. “I mean, you’re still openly wearing that necklace she made you, aren’t you?” Ginny flicks the pendant around Al’s neck with her free hand. “Don’t think you’ll be able to hide whatever you feel for Alicia, either,” Ginny says. “I’ll be watching.”

Ginny taps her hand gently against Al’s cheek and throws her a wink. She steps around the coffee table, grabbing her hat and plopping it back on her head. She stops with her hand on the doorknob and turns back.

“Oh, and if you step out of line like you did with Brooklyn again, keep in mind that I won’t be as forgiving this time around.”

“What’re you gonna do?” Al challenges before she realizes what she’s doing. “Take my command or my life?”

Ginny lets go of the doorknob and takes a few steps back closer to Al. Al almost thinks Ginny’s gonna come deck her, but she stops walking right across from the coffee table. “You will be very publicly demoted to the overnight patrol shift,” Ginny warns. “You won’t lose your life. She will. At your hand. I suggest you keep yourself in check this time, Al.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	3. lake

Patrol will be easy, Alicia realizes. Especially the noon to five shift. Alicia eats dinner in the community’s dining area at a table with Isabelle after her first patrol shift ends. The entire meal, Alicia can’t help but scan the surrounding area for any signs of Al – or even Ginny. She hasn’t seen Ginny since first thing this morning. She caught sight of Al once while she was on patrol, but Al was busy directing the repair of the fence in the back, and Alicia had to keep moving. There was no time to stop and chat.

“So patrol’s not too bad, right?” Isabelle asks, wiping her hands off on a handkerchief. No such thing as single-use napkins in this place.

“It’s not bad,” Alicia agrees. “It’s kind of boring.”

“That’s a good thing,” Isabelle says gently.

Alicia finishes her meal before she says, “I haven’t seen Ginny all day. Is that how things normally are?”

Isabelle shrugs. “It just depends on what’s going on. The back fence needs to be repaired –”

“But it looked like Al was taking care of that.”

Isabelle smiles and nods her head in acknowledgement. Her eyes scan their surroundings before she leans in and says, “We’re also in the midst of a supply shortage, so Ginny’s probably been doing inventory all day, figuring out what we need to get our hands on and how we’re going to do it.”

“Like the antifreeze Al brought back?”

“Exactly.”

“And who usually goes on runs?” Alicia asks.

“That depends, too,” Isabelle answers. “Ginny normally handpicks whoever’s going on the run.”

“Is it normally just one person?”

Isabelle shakes her head. “No. It’s normally groups of three or four. Al went by herself because she has second-in-command privilege.”

“Maybe not for much longer,” Alicia mutters.

Isabelle laughs and points her finger at Alicia. “You’re pretty funny,” Isabelle comments. “But you’re also right. Ginny doesn’t like being caught off guard, especially not by Al.”

“So what do I do?” Alicia asks. “Apologize? Offer to repay my debt and be on my way?”

“No,” Isabelle says. “You stay. You contribute. Everything will be fine.”

“For me,” Alicia says. “What about Al?”

“Al can handle herself,” Isabelle assures Alicia. “She’s a big girl. And she holds quite a bit of power here.”

Isabelle looks like she’s holding something back, but Alicia doesn’t dare to call her on it. Not when she spots a familiar redhead approaching their table.

“Alicia,” Ginny greets warmly. “How was your first day on patrol?”

“It went well,” Alicia says, managing a smile of her own. “No surprises.”

“Well, that’s fantastic!” Ginny exclaims. She looks to Isabelle. “How was it?” she asks.

“Great,” Isabelle says. “Alicia did well. She’ll be good on patrol.”

“Perfect,” Ginny says. “When you’re done with your meal, Isabelle, I need to speak with you in the Situation Room.”

“Got it,” Isabelle says.

Ginny tips her hat and walks off, leaving Alicia to turn back to Isabelle and say, “Situation Room?”

Isabelle points toward what appears to be a large and somewhat recently constructed shed. “It’s sort of an inside joke, calling it the Situation Room,” Isabelle explains. “We just track inventory, discuss courses of actions, make decisions – that sort of stuff.”

“I’m guessing not everyone’s allowed in the Situation Room.”

“Correct,” Isabelle says. “But you’re free for the rest of the day now, so go enjoy yourself.”

“Doing what?” Alicia snorts.

Isabelle shrugs. “I don’t know. Wander, memorize where things are, go back to your apartment.”

“It’s Al’s apartment,” Alicia informs. “And I don’t have a key.”

Isabelle grins and stands from the table. “Then I guess you have to find Al first, huh?”

“And if she’s in the Situation Room?”

“Hang out in the hallway until she gets back, then,” Isabelle laughs. “I’m just kidding. There’s a lobby downstairs. It’s normally empty.”

Isabelle heads for the Situation Room, and Alicia sets out to hopefully intercept Al. She checks the back fence first. There’s still a group of pioneers working on it, but they pay no attention to Alicia as she shuffles over. Al’s no longer overseeing them, though – at least, she’s not within sight.

“Hey,” Alicia says to the nearest pioneer. He looks over his shoulder but turns around when his eyes land on Alicia.

“Hey yourself,” he says. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Alicia,” Alicia says.

He nods. “Wes.”

Alicia hesitates. “Is Al anywhere around here?”

Wes thinks for a moment, rubbing at his jaw. “She only left, like, ten minutes ago?”

“Do you know where she went?”

Wes laughs. “You’re funny,” he says. “No one asks where the boss goes or what she’s doing, man.”

“Do you know which direction she went?” Alicia asks.

“Toward the apartment complex,” a woman working on the fence to the left of Wes says. “Probably needed to grab something from her place. Maybe she’s still there.”

“Thank you,” Alicia says. She resists the urge to shoot an irritated look Wes’s way, but he just shrugs and goes back to repairing the fence. Alicia doesn’t know why fence repair is an all day ordeal, but she knows better than to ask. She heads into the apartment complex and hurries up to Al’s room. She’s lucky she remembers where it’s at, frankly, and she tests the doorknob when she gets there.

Locked. No surprise. Alicia pauses, glancing down the hallway like Ginny’s about to appear, although Alicia knows she’s in the Situation Room with Isabelle. Alicia chances knocking, hitting the wood with her knuckles loud enough to be heard if Al happens to be in her room. Alicia then jams her hands into her pants pockets and waits, hoping for the best.

About a minute passes before Alicia hears the deadbolt unlock. The door swings open, and Al stands defensively in the doorway. She relaxes when her eyes fall on Alicia, and she steps aside to let her in. Alicia hears the door close behind her, and she spots Al’s hat and revolver on the kitchen counter.

“You abandoned your fence project,” Alicia says.

“They’re almost done,” Al dismisses. “What’re you doing here?”

“Isabelle said I was free for the rest of the day. I’m glad you’re here,” Alicia says, turning to face Al. “Otherwise I’d be locked out.”

“Oh, right,” Al says. “Hang on. I’ll find the spare key.”

*

Al finds the spare key in the lower drawer of her desk – the one that holds her camera and tapes from before the infection wiped out most of the population. She ignores it, grabbing the key and shoving the drawer shut. She returns to the living room and places the key in Alicia’s palm.

“So,” Al says. “Isabelle.”

“What about her?”

“Was she nice to you?”

Alicia laughs. “Yeah,” Alicia says. “Why? Is she normally not nice?”

Al smiles and shrugs. “She was hard on Brooklyn.”

Alicia’s smile slides. “Why?”

Al smiles wryly. “You should ask her.”

“You guys need to stop telling me to ask other people about things,” Alicia says. “Why can’t you just tell me shit straight up?”

Al hesitates. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “So they don’t need you in the Situation Room?”

“I wasn’t summoned.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay here?”

Al exhales heavily. “I can,” she says. “If you want me to.”

Alicia nods. “Unless you get summoned.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I hope you don’t get summoned,” Alicia says. “What will I do in this place all alone?”

A smile flickers on Al’s face. “Probably go through all my shit.”

Alicia blushes but grumbles, “I think I learned my lesson.”

“Right,” Al snorts. She pushes her hand through her hair and exhales heavily. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to entertain you if you’re not into books,” Al admits. “It’s not like the good old days when you could just turn the TV on and flip through a hundred channels.”

“So you’re saying you guys don’t have TV here?” Alicia teases. “Maybe I’ll have to think about joining a settlement that’s got their priorities straight.” Al’s eyes roll as Alicia laughs at her own joke. “Oh, come on!” Alicia says. “Everyone around here is so damn _serious_. That was funny. Laugh a little.”

Alicia jabs Al in the stomach, and Al reflexively brings her arms in to protect herself. Their eyes meet, and Alicia smirks.

“Ticklish?”

“You don’t want to find out,” Al warns.

There’s a malicious glint in Alicia’s eyes, and that pushes Al to strike preemptively. She takes Alicia to the carpet, pinning her arms behind her back. Al presses her knee to the small of Alicia’s back and holds her to the floor.

“Hey!” Alicia grunts. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“You were going to,” Al accuses.

Alicia laughs, a light, airy sound and tries to shake her head against the floor. “I was not!” she lies. She tries to break free of the hold Al has on her, but she’s not nearly strong enough. “Okay, let me go,” Alicia huffs. “I won’t try to tickle you. I promise.”

Al releases Alicia’s arms and takes her knee off her back. Al gets to her feet as Alicia rolls onto her back. Al holds her hand out, and Alicia takes it and gets up. Alicia hangs onto Al’s hands for a few moments longer than necessary.

“Well, it’s good to know that you’re definitely stronger than me,” Alicia says, finally pulling her hands away from Al’s. “And you’re totally ticklish, too.”

“No I’m not.”

“Then why’d you attack me?”

Al smirks. “To prove that I’m stronger than you.”

“Right,” Alicia laughs. “I believe it.” She shakes her head then asks, “Is there anything fun to do around here?”

Al’s eyes light up initially, but then her face scrunches up with doubt. “Ginny’s in the Situation Room?” Al questions.

“With Isabelle,” Alicia confirms. “Why? Does this mean –?”

Al shushes her, not unkindly, then snatches her hat and revolver off the counter. “You’re armed, right?”

“Yeah, but –”

Al shushes her again. “Just follow my lead. Don’t ask questions. Come on.”

*

Al leads Alicia first to the stables and retrieves Dakota. Al wastes no time mounting Dakota then offering Alicia a hand up. Alicia settles behind Al and wraps her arms around Al’s waist. She holds back all the questions she’s dying to ask, especially when Al rides over to the gate. Alicia tries to keep her face hidden, turned away from the pioneer on gate duty, as Al makes up some bullshit to get him to let them out.

It doesn’t take long. This guy isn’t up for arguing with the second-in-command who happens to be on a horse.

“Thanks, Harry,” Al says, flashing a wide smile. The gate opens, and they ride off. Alicia can’t help but to feel uneasy as Paradise Ridge disappears behind them.

“Is it okay that we’re doing this?” Alicia asks. “I know you said no questions –”

“It’s fine,” Al dismisses. “We’ll be back before the overnight patrol shift begins. And I know Ginny and Isabelle will be locked in the Situation Room at least until midnight.”

“It’s that bad?” Alicia asks.

Al makes a noncommittal sound but doesn’t otherwise answer. The ride isn’t too long, and Al brings Dakota to a stop not far from a small, undisturbed lake.

“Does everyone know about this?” Alicia asks quietly.

“Ginny knows,” Al says as she secures Dakota to a nearby tree. “I don’t think she really cares. Our water supply is good.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

Al shrugs. “I used to. It’s a good place to get away from everyone and just think.”

Alicia watches Al pull the hat from her head and leave it with Dakota before popping the top couple buttons of her shirt. Her whole body seems to relax, and she faces the lake and puts her hands on her hips, sighing contentedly.

“It’s pretty,” Alicia says.

“Every time we move to a new spot, I try to find somewhere isolated I can escape to,” Al admits.

“I get it,” Alicia murmurs. “I’ve lived in a couple of large settlements, and being surrounded by people all the time got on my nerves, too.”

Al nods. “These settlements you lived in…were they in Texas?”

“One was,” Alicia says. “I was in Mexico for a bit. Southern California. Nothing worked out.”

“They fell?”

“All of them,” Alicia confirms. “That’s why, um, that’s why I’m out here alone.”

“Oh.”

Alicia smiles wryly and knocks her shoulder into Al’s. “I have to say, though, Texas is the fucking worst,” Alicia says.

Al laughs. “Yeah. It’s not my favorite place, and I’ve been all over.”

“All over, huh?” Alicia questions. “Why?”

“My job,” Al says. “Before the pioneers and the dead and everything.”

Alicia waits, but Al doesn’t say anything more. “That’s it?” Alicia says. “No specifics?”

Al grins. “You’ve gone through my shit. Collect the pieces, Alicia, and put them all together."

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Alicia stares out at the water, at the sun that’s just barely beginning to set. “I didn’t mean that,” Alicia sighs.

“It’s okay,” Al says. She starts walking toward the water, and Alicia cautiously follows. Al stops at the shore and bends to remove her boots and socks, tossing them far enough back from the shoreline to keep them dry. She rolls her pant legs up as far as she can then scoops a rock up off the damp sand. She studies it in her palm for a moment then skips it across the lake.

“This is what you do?” Alicia asks gently. “Skip rocks?”

“Sometimes,” Al says. “Give it a shot.”

Alicia chuckles. “No. I already know I can’t.”

“You can throw a rock, Alicia.”

“Not like that.”

Al shrugs and steps into the water, just so it comes up to her ankles. “The water’s warm,” Al says.

“Is that an invitation?”

“If you want it to be.”

Alicia grins and pulls her boots off. She throws them with Al’s, adds her socks, then shimmies her way out of her pants while Al’s busy skipping stones. Alicia pulls her shirt over her head then flings her undergarments off to the side with the Glock and her knife. Maybe not the smartest idea, but fuck it. When’s Alicia going to get another chance to swim?

Alicia bolts into the water, completely naked, before Al even realizes what’s going on. Alicia launches herself underwater and surfaces, keeping the waterline at her neck. She pushes her hair back from her face and grins at Al, standing stunned on the shore with a rock in her hand.

“Oh, come on!” Alicia calls. “You’ve never swam here before?”

“Actually, no,” Al replies. “I’m not crazy.”

“The water _is _warm,” Alicia comments.

“You better hope there aren’t any walkers,” Al warns.

“My knife’s, like, twenty feet away,” Alicia dismisses. “I’m not worried.”

Al presses her lips together. She skips the final stone, keeping it carefully away from Alicia, then unbuckles her belt. Alicia laughs in triumph, sucks in a breath of air, then ducks beneath the surface again. Alicia takes a moment to revel in the feeling of being completely submerged, to revel in the silence, the refuge the water offers from the world. She pushes her head back above the surface, gasping for air.

Al’s still on the shore, just tossing her button down onto their pile of clothes. Alicia figures it would be messed up to stare, so she clamps her hands over her eyes and shouts, “I’m not looking, I swear!”

“I’m not worried,” Al says, maybe just a hint of cockiness in her voice. Alicia, still, keeps her eyes covered until she hears Al submerge herself not too far away. Alicia slowly lowers her hands and opens her eyes, seeking out Al.

“You aren’t gonna go under?” Alicia questions.

“No,” Al laughs. “And mess up my hair?”

“It’s been messed up by your hat all day,” Alicia points out.

Al grins then quickly dips under the water. She resurfaces and runs her hand over her hair, slicking it back from her forehead. “You better hope Ginny doesn’t catch us,” Al teases.

“Oh shit,” Alicia says, eyes widening. “What if she –”

“She won’t catch us,” Al cuts in. “She might be suspicious, but she won’t have proof. So you let me do the worrying, okay? I’d rather talk about anything besides Ginny right now.”

Alicia nods. “Me too.”

Al smiles lopsidedly as her eyes go from Alicia’s face out towards the setting sun. “This is insane,” she says.

“Maybe a little. But it’s fun,” Alicia says.

That smile stays on Al’s face, and Alicia can’t help but to return it. Al inhales deeply then says, “Tell me something no one else knows about you.”

Alicia throws her head back and laughs. “Excuse me, ma’am,” Alicia teases, “but you’re prying.”

“Hey, you know about my wife,” Al argues.

“I don’t know her name.”

“Taylor,” Al says. “Now tell me something.”

Alicia grudgingly nods. “Okay,” she says softly. “The last settlement I came from…it was a baseball stadium. The Dell Diamond Baseball Stadium. It was a community that my mom built from the ground up, but this other nomadic settlement drove it to die. My mom –” Alicia’s voice breaks, and she takes a deep breath and continues, “My mom died saving me and my brother, his girlfriend, and one of our friends. They’re alive, as far as I know, but we had a falling out, so…yeah. I’m here now. Alone.”

Al’s expression is gentle. “You’re not alone,” she says.

Alicia shakes her head. “I am,” she whispers. “Especially here. I don’t belong with you – with the pioneers.”

Al presses her lips together. Her eyes don’t leave Alicia’s face. “You could go,” Al says, so quietly Alicia has to strain to hear her. “You could run, right now. I’d stall –”

“No,” Alicia cuts in. “Not without you. I couldn’t let you go back there to take the fall for me. We have to go back.”

Al nods, and something like relief flashes in her eyes. “Okay,” she agrees. “But not yet. The water’s nice.”

Al’s eyes return to the sunset, and Alicia’s eyes study Al’s face. Her eyes can’t help but to be drawn to the scar across Al’s chest. It’s getting harder to make out in the waning sunlight, but in spite of its age, it’s still pretty nasty looking. Ginny made her mark, a visible warning to Al not to step out of line again.

“You’re staring,” Al says, smirking.

“Your leader permanently scarred you,” Alicia blurts.

“Yes.”

“How can you put up with that?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about Ginny.”

“I know,” Alicia says. “We did say that, but…I don’t get it.”

“It could be worse,” Al says. “I could be out there –”

“Alone?” Alicia finishes. “Right.”

“I found you half dead in the road,” Al reminds.

“I know. I’m only alive because of you.”

“I’m not trying to hold that over you,” Al says. “But you take the bad with the good when you’re a pioneer. It’s just something you learn to accept.”

Growling cuts Alicia’s response off, and Al sighs wearily. “I’ll get it,” Alicia offers. She rushes out of the water, the sun nearly fully set, and grabs her knife off the ground. She spots the rogue walker off in the trees and figures she has enough time to fight her way back into her clothes. The walker targets Dakota first, but Alicia makes quick work of the walker then finishes putting her boots back on.

Al’s still in the water.

“You gonna stay in there all night?” Alicia asks, putting her hands on her hips.

“I’ll be out soon,” Al says defensively. Alicia cleans the blade of her knife and sheaths it at her hip again. She holsters the Glock at her other hip then pauses to inspect Al’s revolver. It’s well cared for, although it’s rather impractical, if Alicia does say so herself. “Hey! Don’t touch my gun,” Al calls. Alicia hears her hurry to exit the water and instinctively looks over, getting more than an eyeful.

“Jesus, Al!”

“What?” Al says, coming to a stop near Alicia. “Give me my clothes then.”

Alicia stares Al straight in the eye, not daring to lower her gaze even a little. Al, though, seems completely unbothered by the fact that she’s standing _totally naked _in front of Alicia.

“Get them yourself,” Alicia challenges.

Al smirks. “I mean, I did say if you were lucky, you’d get to see me with all my clothes off.”

“Oh, God,” Alicia complains, rolling her eyes. “Get dressed, Al.”

Al shrugs and starts getting her clothes back on. She buttons her shirt from the bottom up, and Alicia hesitantly grabs her hand, stopping her halfway. Al raises her eyebrows, but Alicia wordlessly moves Al’s shirt aside, staring at the two year old scar Ginny left her. Alicia’s eyes shift over to the necklace, to the pendant resting against the center of Al’s chest. Up close, Alicia confirms that the pendant _is _a small bridge.

“What are you doing?” Al asks quietly.

Alicia inhales sharply. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” Al says. She buttons her shirt back up to her neck, straightens the collar, and slaps her hat over her wet hair. “Let’s go.”

*

When they ride up to the gate, Isabelle’s the person stationed there. “Shit,” Al hisses.

“What?” Alicia says. Her arms tighten around Al’s waist.

“Relax,” Al says. “I’ll handle it.”

“Does this mean Ginny’s out of the Situation Room?”

“I don’t know,” Al admits. The gate swings open, and Isabelle steps aside to let them in. “Isabelle,” Al says. She dismounts Dakota, offers Alicia her hand, and allows Matthew to lead Dakota back to the stable.

“Al,” Isabelle says. She motions for the gate to be closed, and Al doesn’t miss the assault rifle slung casually over Isabelle’s shoulder.

“Is there a problem?” Al asks. She nods toward the gun, but Isabelle shakes her head.

“You’re one lucky motherfucker, I’ll give you that,” Isabelle says quietly. She claps Al on the shoulder, then her eyes shift over to Alicia, half hiding behind Al.

“Where is she?” Al asks in a voice that’s barely audible. She feels Alicia grasp onto a handful of the back of her shirt.

“Situation Room,” Isabelle says gruffly. “She swapped me for Jacob. She didn’t set foot outside – still hasn’t.”

“Jacob?” Al questions. She glances around, but they’re alone while Matthew’s busy taking care of Dakota. “The doctor?”

Isabelle nods. “William was on roof repair today,” she says. “Ginny hasn’t asked for you yet, but let’s just say there’s a situation.”

“What’s going on?” Alicia asks, finally finding her voice. Al turns back, forcing Alicia to release her hold on her shirt, and Al just shakes her head.

“Nothing yet,” Al says grimly. “I’m guessing they’ll watch him overnight?” she says to Isabelle.

“Seems so,” Isabelle confirms. “Ginny wants Jacob’s opinion first. William’s our best repairman.”

Al nods, inhaling deeply. “Thank you,” she says. “Seriously. I owe you.”

Isabelle smiles crookedly. “You always owe me for something, Al. When are you gonna pay up?"

Al shrugs and grins. “Never, probably.”

Isabelle shakes her head, but her smile lingers on her face. “You should probably go to bed,” Isabelle suggests. “Tomorrow will be an early morning.”

“And a long day,” Al agrees. “Come on, Alicia.”

*

Al doesn’t say another word until they’re locked in her apartment, and Alicia doesn’t dare break the silence, either. Al pulls her hat from her head, exhaling heavily, and sets it on the coffee table with her revolver. Alicia mimics her actions, adding her knife and Glock to the table.

“Why is it going to be an early morning?” Alicia asks. “What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry,” Al assures her. She pushes both her hands through her hair then drops down onto the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. “It doesn’t concern you,” Al mutters.

“Just tell me what’s going on!” Alicia blurts. “I can handle it.”

“It’s not about being able to handle it,” Al says sharply. She slaps her hands against her knees and looks up to meet Alicia’s gaze.

“Then what is it about?”

“Knowing your place and staying in it,” Al says through her teeth. “Ginny moved you into my apartment for a very specific reason, Alicia. It’s a test.”

Alicia balks. “A test? For you or me?”

“Mostly me,” Al says.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Alicia demands.

“Because it’s my problem.”

“But I’m part of it!”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Al says simply. Alicia’s eyes search her face, but she finds nothing. “It’s as simple as that. As for what’s happening with William, it’s the same kind of shit, Alicia. There is nothing you can do – nothing even _I _can do now – so there’s no point in worrying you with it.”

“But you’re worried,” Alicia says.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m worried,” Al says. “And I should be. We need William. This settlement only functions properly because of him.”

Alicia presses her lips together. Al’s good at concealing her feelings when she wants to – at least, that’s what Alicia has determined. But Alicia can practically feel the stress rolling off of Al in waves.

“It’ll be okay,” Alicia says. She makes her way over to the couch and gingerly sits beside Al. She chances laying her hand over Al’s on her knee. “I mean, Ginny will figure something out, right?”

“He’ll be a hard man to replace,” Al says.

“Maybe you won’t have to replace him,” Alicia says. “Maybe he’ll get better. We don’t even know what happened to him yet.”

Al looks over at Alicia, and their eyes lock. Al gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Whatever it is, it’s not good,” Al says quietly. Alicia squeezes her hand in what she hopes is a comforting gesture, but Al just looks away, staring down at the floor. Al doesn’t let go of Alicia’s hand, though.

“Can I ask you something?” Alicia asks.

“Sure.”

“Why is there a bridge around your neck?”

Al chuckles and rubs at her eyes tiredly. “Brooklyn made it,” Al admits. “Found the pendant in a jewelry store. It’s –”

“Brooklyn,” Alicia says gently. “Like the bridge.”

Al smiles. “Yes.”

“You loved her,” Alicia guesses.

Al’s breath hitches in her throat, but she gives a small nod. “Yes.”

“But you helped her escape.”

Al smiles wryly. “Why else would I have risked so much?”

She has a point.

“I’m sorry,” Alicia says.

“Stop apologizing to me.”

Alicia nods. “Ginny knows, right? That’s why you’re so careful around her.”

“Ginny knows,” Al confirms. “She knows everything around here.”

“She had a problem with it? With you and Brooklyn?” Alicia questions.

“The Brooklyn incident proved to Ginny that my judgment could be compromised,” Al says.

“Is that why Isabelle was hard on Brooklyn?”

“I told you. You’ll have to ask Isabelle about that.”

“She covered for us,” Alicia says.

“I know.”

Al tries to stand, but Alicia uses her grasp on Al’s hand to pull her back down to the couch. Al’s eyebrows raise as Alicia continues to clutch onto her hand. Alicia swallows hard and reaches up to brush Al’s bangs back from her face. Her hair’s still damp from their little excursion. Alicia’s fingers linger at the side of Al’s face, and she searches Al’s expression for any indications of discomfort.

“Don’t walk away,” Alicia whispers.

“Okay.”

Alicia breathes shallowly for a few moments, grazing her thumb against Al’s cheek. “You snuck me out so we could go skinny dipping,” Alicia says.

Al cracks a smile. “Well, I guess you can put it like that.”

“Even though it could strain your relationship with Ginny.”

“It’s already strained.”

Alicia hums. She releases Al’s hand and puts it against Al’s neck instead, dipping her fingers beneath the collar of Al’s shirt. Alicia leans in but pauses to murmur, “Should I stop?”

In response, Al closes the short distance between them and kisses her. Alicia wastes no time fumbling with the buttons of Al’s shirt, and Al quickly tosses it aside and pushes Alicia down onto the couch.

As Al’s lips press against Alicia’s throat, Alicia gasps, “Wait! Did you lock the door?”

Al lifts her head and squints across the room. “It’s locked.”

“Okay, sorry,” Alicia exhales.

Al smirks.

*

When Al wakes up, she grunts and immediately reaches up to scratch her chest. Her fingers find another hand, though, and Al’s eyes pop open. Alicia smiles softly, her fingertip tracing along the length of the scar on Al’s chest.

“Sorry,” Alicia says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I need to get up anyway,” Al says. She groans and presses her hand to her face. “Why’d we sleep on the couch?” she grumbles.

“I don’t know,” Alicia says. She detangles herself from Al and gets up. “You fell asleep, so I just stayed.”

Al sits up and grabs her shirt off the floor, sliding her arms into it. She doesn’t button it, doesn’t go for her pants. “I’m gonna shower,” Al announces. “You know you have to check in with Isabelle before your shift, right?”

“Yeah.”

Al jerks her head toward the bathroom. “Come on. We might as well conserve water.”

Alicia grins.

*

Alicia checks in with Isabelle at eight a.m., only because Al mutters something about having to meet with Ginny at eight-thirty about William. Before they walk out the door, Alicia snatches Al’s cowboy hat off the counter and calls, “Forgetting something?”

Al turns back. “Shit. Right.”

Alicia smiles and sets it on Al’s head. “Got your gun?”

Al flashes the revolver in its holster at her hip. “Always.”

“You don’t want Ginny to get suspicious,” Alicia says.

Al just nods. Alicia trails behind her until they meet up with Isabelle at the gate. Alicia can’t help but wonder if Isabelle stayed up all night – and if she did, then when does this woman sleep? Isabelle, though, doesn’t appear to be tired.

“Al,” Isabelle greets. She holds her hand out, and Al takes it, clapping Isabelle on the back. Though the embrace is short, Isabelle whispers something in Al’s ear that Alicia can’t quite make out, and Al nods.

“Take care of her,” Al tells Isabelle. “I want to hear good things about you.”

Isabelle laughs. “You know me,” she says. “Can’t go too easy on ‘em.”

Al flashes a quick smile to Isabelle. Her eyes seek out Alicia, and they nod at each other before Al walks off, probably to find Ginny. Alicia turns her attention to Isabelle. She’s got the rifle from last night slung over her shoulder, and Alicia can’t help but notice its major modification – the trident style bayonet on the end. Isabelle definitely left some point after Alicia and Al’s return last night, Alicia realizes, because she’s in different clothes than before. She’s still in a leather jacket, but there’s a faded gray T-shirt beneath it, bearing some sort of logo that Alicia doesn’t recognize.

“So what do I do until noon?” Alicia asks.

Isabelle pauses. “Normally I’d have something for you,” she admits. “But it’s, uh, a weird day. So for now, it’s just best if you stick with me.”

Alicia nods. “Cool gun.”

Isabelle smiles thinly. “It does its job.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The bayonet’s good for killing the dead,” Isabelle says. Isabelle looks Alicia over as if she knows something Alicia doesn’t but only says, “Come on. You should eat something.”

*

Al walks straight into the Situation Room without knocking, without asking for permission. Ginny looks up from the table in the center of the shed, and she smiles as her eyes land on Al. Jacob stands to Ginny’s left, and Trent – one of the biggest guys in the settlement – is on her right.

“Al,” Ginny says warmly. “How nice of you to join us.”

“I wasn’t invited to the party,” Al quips.

“You know you’re always welcome,” Ginny replies.

“Are you gonna fill me in?” Al asks.

“Certainly,” Ginny says. She waves Al over. “Come on. But first, tell me: how’s Alicia adjusting?”

“Just fine,” Al grunts. “She’s with Isabelle.”

Ginny nods her approval. She slides an open notebook across the table toward Al. “First and foremost,” Ginny says, “here’s our inventory problem.”

Al’s eyes skim down the page and she determines that, yes, they do in fact have an inventory problem. That’s nothing new. “So what’s the plan?” Al asks.

“We haven’t drafted one yet,” Ginny informs. “We’ll get started on that today.”

“Who’s _we_?”

Ginny beams. “Me, you, and Isabelle, obviously.”

“Then what comes first?” Al asks, pushing the notebook back toward Ginny.

Ginny presses her lips together and lifts her hat from her head. She looks first to Trent, then Jacob. “Why don’t you tell her, Doc?” Ginny says, nodding at Jacob.

Jacob’s a man in his fifties with thinning hair, glasses, and a rather timid disposition. He stammers at first but manages to say, “I’m afraid that, in his fall from the roof, William has broken his leg in a manner that requires surgery, and we simply cannot perform it.”

Al sighs. She knows exactly what that’s going to mean for William. She scratches the back of her neck as her teeth sink into her lower lip. “We have no other options?” she asks, looking to Ginny.

“I’m afraid not,” Ginny says. “We’re going to have to start searching for a replacement.”

“There are very few people in this area,” Al reminds. “Where are we going to find a replacement?”

Ginny shrugs. Frankly, she doesn’t look too concerned. “Maybe we’ll be moving on soon.”

Al wants to argue, but she holds off. For now. She shakes her head. “Who’s going to do it?”

“I will, of course,” Ginny says. “Erin and Lloyd have been notified.”

“And William?”

Ginny inhales deeply. “Well, Al, I was about to go break the news to him right now. Perhaps you’d like to accompany me.”

She wouldn’t, but Al nods. She knows Ginny well enough to know that wasn’t a question. They leave the Situation Room, walking side by side all the way to the infirmary on the other side of the settlement. Ginny doesn’t say anything until they’re at the doors, when she looks Al over and hums.

“You should wear red more often,” Ginny comments. “It looks good on you.”

Al’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but Ginny steps into the infirmary before Al has come up with an appropriate response. She tries to recall any other instance in which Ginny was so straightforward about something like that, but Al comes up empty. She steels herself and enters the infirmary.

She hates this part.

*

Isabelle’s showing Alicia a thing or two about operating the gate, and she’s in the middle of listing off rules when a small commotion catches her attention. Alicia looks in the same direction as Isabelle. Isabelle doesn’t go for her gun, though, so despite suddenly being on edge, Alicia doesn’t draw hers.

“What’s going on?” Alicia asks.

“It’s starting,” Isabelle mutters. “Come on. You don’t want to be here.”

“What? No,” Alicia says. “I’m staying.”

“You don’t want to,” Isabelle says quietly.

“Where’s Al?” Alicia demands. “I want to speak to her.”

“You won’t be able to until after,” Isabelle says. “She’s with Ginny.”

“What –” Alicia cuts herself off as two men carry a third man on a gurney. They carry him out in front of the apartment complex and set him on the ground. His leg is clearly injured, and Alicia can’t hear anything he’s saying, but the two bulky men who’d carried him wave the forming crowd away, barking orders at them to disperse. One of the two men grab ahold of a woman rushing for the man on the ground and restrain her as Ginny and Al appear.

Al pulls her hat from her head and holds it against her chest. Ginny stands over the man on the ground, and Alicia looks to Isabelle for answers.

“What’s happening?” Alicia asks.

Isabelle grabs her by the arm. “Come on,” she says firmly. “You don’t want to be here.”

“I want to know what’s –”

Ginny pulls the revolver from her hip and aims it at the man’s head. Alicia’s eyes widen. She can’t hear what’s going on, but she can tell the man is pleading for his life, trying to hold Ginny off.

Alicia yanks free of Isabelle’s grasp and bolts from the gate to the man. Or she tries. She’s quickly restrained by a man much bigger than her, but she succeeds in temporarily distracting Ginny.

“Now, what is going on?” Ginny asks.

“What are you doing?” Alicia demands. “Get off of me!” She tries to yank free, but the man’s much stronger than her. “Why are you – he’s hurt! Help him!”

“Alicia!”

Alicia looks back, setting her wild gaze on Isabelle. “What’s happening?” Alicia asks. “Please, just explain –”

“She’s making a scene,” Ginny interrupts.

“I’ll handle her,” Isabelle says. “Dirk. Come on. Let her go.”

Dirk looks to Ginny, and Ginny gives a slight nod. Dirk releases Alicia into Isabelle’s grasp instead. Alicia doesn’t try to fight off Isabelle, but she does look to Al.

“This isn’t – this isn’t right,” Alicia whispers.

“Come on,” Isabelle says, tugging on Alicia’s arm. “Please.”

“Al, don’t just stand there,” Alicia pleads. “Do something!”

Ginny’s eyebrows raise. She twists to face Al, smiling. “Is there something you’d like to do, Al?”

Alicia watches as Al carefully props her hat back on her head. She clears her throat. “No, ma’am,” Al says evenly. She doesn’t look at Alicia.

“Come on,” Isabelle hisses. “Unless you want to be the next person Ginny puts down. Come on!”

Isabelle tries to lead Alicia away, but Alicia resists. She knows Isabelle could force her, if she really wanted to, but she can’t _believe _Al’s just going to stand there and let Ginny –

Ginny aims the revolver at the man’s head again.

Alicia doesn’t think. In one swift movement, she breaks Isabelle’s hold on her and runs to the man’s defense. Ginny’s eerily calm demeanor doesn’t change, but she points the revolver at Alicia’s head. Alicia swallows hard, standing her ground over the injured man.

“You should’ve listened to Isabelle,” Ginny says.

“Wait!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	4. trigger

Al shoves herself between Ginny and Alicia, shielding Alicia from Ginny with her body. The barrel of Ginny’s revolver presses into Al’s cheek, and Al breathes rapidly through her nose. She feels Alicia grasping at the back of her shirt, maybe as a warning.

“I thought we weren’t going to have a repeat of the Brooklyn incident,” Ginny says. Her eye twitches. Her finger is braced on the trigger, and one wrong move will kill Al.

“She doesn’t know,” Al says quietly. “She doesn’t know how things work here.”

Ginny cocks her head to the side. “You stepped in front of a gun for her, Al.”

“You haven’t shot her,” Alicia says from behind her. Al’s eyes close briefly. Alicia needs to keep her mouth shut, but it’s too late. “Anyone else you would’ve shot on the spot, right?” Alicia presses.

“Alicia,” Al says. “Stop.”

“No,” Alicia says. “He – he’s innocent! He’s just hurt –”

“We can’t help him,” Ginny says. “It’s too late now, Alicia. I’d mind my own business if I were you. Before you get Al in bigger trouble.”

“You haven’t killed her yet,” Alicia says. “Why would you now?”

“Isabelle! Come get her out of here,” Al calls. Isabelle is frozen in place a few feet away from William, sprawled out on the ground. Al can’t turn her head much with the barrel of Ginny’s revolver pushing into her cheek.

“You stay where you are, Isabelle,” Ginny says. Al’s eyes lock with Ginny’s, and for a long moment, they just stare at each other. Ginny is never like this. No one defies her. Not even Al –

Except she already has before, and she walked away when no one else would’ve. She’s got a gun pressed to her face, but Ginny hasn’t pulled the trigger when any other time, she would’ve. She’s killed people for less.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Al asks.

Ginny laughs. “Is that what you want, Al? You want me to kill you?”

“I want to know why you haven’t,” Al says. Alicia’s fingers dig into her waist, but Al ignores it. At least Alicia’s being smart, staying shielded by Al’s body. That’s all Al can ask for at this point. “Anyone else would’ve been shot dead by now,” Al adds.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alicia mutters.

“I’d shut your mouth, if I were you,” Ginny warns. “Unless you’d like me to splatter Al’s brains across the ground.”

“You won’t,” Alicia says. “Something’s stopping you, isn’t it?”

“Alicia,” Al says. “Stop.”

“She’s going to kill him,” Alicia says. “He could heal –”

“He’s a liability,” Ginny says loudly. “A drain on the group.”

“He’s hurt,” Alicia says. “He needs our help –”

“That isn’t how things work around here, Alicia,” Ginny says, shaking her head.

“Just put the gun down,” Alicia begs. “We can talk –”

“There’s no more talking to be done,” Ginny says. Her eyes haven’t left Al’s face this entire time. Al blinks, every muscle in her body tensed. She waits for Ginny to pull the trigger, to end her life, then likely William’s and probably Alicia’s, too. The other pioneers will accept whatever explanation Ginny gives them for the three deaths.

“Don’t!” Alicia shouts as Ginny starts to aim the revolver back down at William. Alicia tries to press forward, but Al gets her around the waist and throws her to the ground. At the same time, Ginny changes course with the revolver and brings it down onto Al’s face. There’s a loud _crack_, and Al’s pretty sure it’s the sound of her nose breaking. She crumples to the ground somewhere near Alicia, dazed, blood pouring from her nose.

Someone screams, and the revolver fires.

*

The injured man lies dead. Alicia hurries to Al’s side while Ginny is busy giving orders to her men to dispose of the body. Al’s nose is bent at an odd angle, bleeding profusely, but Al seems to be clinging onto consciousness.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Alicia whispers, though she’s not exactly sure how she’s going to do that.

To Alicia’s surprise, Isabelle appears at her side. “Help me get her up,” Isabelle says.

“Won’t Ginny –”

“You let me worry about Ginny,” Isabelle says. “Get her legs.”

“Where are we going?”

Isabelle gets Al under the arms and lifts her with Alicia before she answers. “Her apartment. Hurry.”

They’re in the lobby before Alicia realizes they have to get Al up a flight of stairs. “How are we –”

“Let me handle that,” Isabelle grunts. “Go ahead of me and get the doors open.”

Alicia doesn’t argue. She props the first door open once Isabelle’s got Al slung across her shoulder in the fireman’s carry. Alicia figures now isn’t the time to ask Isabelle how she’s strong enough to carry another person so effortlessly. Alicia rushes to the apartment, fumbling to dig the key out of her pocket and get the door unlocked.

“Come on,” Isabelle grumbles. “She’s getting blood all over the place. Ginny’s going to kill us.”

“I thought she was going to do that anyway,” Alicia says. She flings the door open and steps aside, letting Isabelle go first. She glances down the hallway, but no one has pursued them yet. She pulls the door shut behind her and locks the deadbolt. As Isabelle lowers Al onto the couch, Alicia drags the coffee table across the room and shoves it against the door. It’s better than nothing, she supposes.

The balcony overlooks the front of the complex where Ginny executed that injured man. Alicia crosses the room and yanks the curtains shut. It blocks most of the natural light, but better safe than sorry.

“So?” Alicia says. “What do we do?”

“We?”

Alicia hesitates. “Yes,” she says. “We. Al needs your help, and I – obviously I don’t even know how things work in this place. What am I supposed to do?”

“You shouldn’t have come here in the first place,” Isabelle says.

“It’s too late for that.”

Isabelle hums. “I know.”

Alicia watches Isabelle study Al’s face and gently prod at her nose. Al moans and tries to swat Isabelle’s hand away.

“It’s broken,” Isabelle informs.

“Well, Ginny _did _hit her in the face with a gun,” Alicia says.

“I’m aware,” Isabelle replies. She goes to prop her rifle against the wall then disappears into the bathroom. Alicia hears her searching through cabinets, and she returns with a first aid kit in tow. “I’ll have to set her nose,” Isabelle says. “And we’ll have to stop the bleeding.”

“What should I do?” Alicia asks.

Isabelle pauses. She looks down at Al’s bloodied face then over at Alicia. “You should come hold her hand,” Isabelle says. “I’m no doctor.”

“You’re gonna ruin my face,” Al says through the blood running into her mouth.

“Your face is already ruined,” Isabelle retorts. She smiles gently, though, and briefly squeezes Al’s shoulder. Al reaches up dazedly and touches her hand to Isabelle’s face. Isabelle grabs Al’s hand and redirects it to Alicia. Alicia takes it in both her own, kneeling beside the couch near Al’s head. “Just be happy she didn’t kill you,” Isabelle says. “Anyone else would’ve been dead.”

Al barks a laugh that turns into a grimace. “So why am I alive?” Al asks.

Alicia and Isabelle exchange a glance. “Ginny’s always had a soft spot for you,” Isabelle says. “Now stop talking. We need to get this over with.”

*

Isabelle allows Al to scream for exactly three seconds before she clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Al’s grip on Alicia’s hand is so tight, it’s a wonder she isn’t breaking bones. Alicia doesn’t complain, not even once.

“Hold this,” Isabelle instructs. She guides Al’s free hand to the wad of gauze against her nose. “Try not to choke on your own blood, okay?”

“I’m getting blood all over my couch,” Al manages to say.

“Forget about the couch,” Isabelle says. “We have bigger problems.”

Alicia combs her fingers through Al’s hair then looks to Isabelle, washing the blood from her hands in the kitchen sink. “What do we do if she comes here?” Alicia asks.

“Well,” Isabelle says, shutting the water off. Her eyes go to the rifle propped against the wall. “We have a few options,” she says.

“How many of them involve us dying?” Alicia asks.

Isabelle cracks a smile and dries her hands. “A lot,” she admits.

“We can’t stay in here forever,” Al says. “She’ll come for us.”

Isabelle grabs a bowl from the cabinet, runs a washcloth under water, and passes them to Alicia. Al doesn’t need to be told what to do. She spits a mouthful of blood into the bowl instead of letting it roll down her chin. Alicia, for her part, begins to wipe the blood from Al’s face and neck.

“Tomorrow,” Isabelle says. “She’ll come tomorrow. She’ll want to make a plan first.”

“So we need to be out of here before tomorrow,” Alicia says.

“You mean leave?” Al questions. “We can’t leave.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Alicia says. “Unless you want to die.”

Isabelle snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. She leans back against the kitchen counter, shaking her head. “Al won’t die,” Isabelle says. “But you and I will.”

“What are you talking about?” Al says. “Of course I’ll –”

“She would’ve shot you already,” Isabelle dismisses. “She pistol whipped you for a reason, Al. Don’t be dense.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Al says. She stares up into Alicia’s eyes, but Alicia just purses her lips and strokes her fingers through Al’s hair once more.

“Oh my God,” Isabelle scoffs. “Even Alicia can see it, and she’s been here all of two days.”

“Maybe we should let Al rest,” Alicia says quickly.

Isabelle holds her hands up in surrender. “If she doesn’t want to see it, that’s on her.”

*

Alicia checks to make sure Al’s nose has stopped bleeding before giving her permission to rest. Alicia cleans up, washes the blood from her hands, then goes to peer out the curtains. The body’s been moved, and as far as Alicia can tell, everything’s running as business as usual. Minus Al, Isabelle, and Alicia, of course.

Ginny’s out there, animatedly giving orders to a group of pioneers with guns.

“You’re the head of security,” Alicia remembers. She spares a glance over her shoulder at Isabelle, seated at the end of the couch with Al’s legs resting in her lap.

“Yeah.”

“You can’t be an easy person to replace.”

Isabelle chuckles. “Ginny can and will replace anyone,” she says. “My position isn’t secure. There are only two positions in this place that won’t be vacated and refilled.”

“And?”

Isabelle looks over her shoulder at Alicia. “That’s Ginny’s and Al’s, obviously,” Isabelle says. “No one in their right mind will challenge Ginny.”

“Right. That earns them a bullet to the face.”

“Exactly. And Ginny has personal reasons for keeping Al around.”

Alicia presses her lips together. “Personal reasons,” she says.

“I know you see it, too.”

“I thought I was just being paranoid,” Alicia admits. “But Ginny is…kinda weird with Al.”

“I know.”

That conversation ends there. Isabelle picks up a book, but Alicia can’t understand how she can read at a time like this. Alicia paces, back and forth, behind the couch and tries to think. The most obvious course of action is waiting until Ginny comes for them and trying to shoot their way out, but Alicia knows that won’t work. If Isabelle is right and Ginny doesn’t come until tomorrow, then they have the night to try to escape.

But Alicia has a feeling Ginny’s out there trying to prevent just that from happening.

“Stop pacing,” Isabelle finally says. “It isn’t productive.”

“Because reading is?”

“You’re wasting energy that you’re going to need,” Isabelle says.

“Then what should I do?”

“Go pack a bag,” Isabelle suggests.

“I don’t have much to take with me.”

“Go pack Al’s bag.”

Alicia shakes her head vehemently. “I learned my lesson about going through her shit.”

“Then you’ve already seen it all,” Isabelle says. “Just go pack it up.”

“We’re definitely leaving then?”

“It’s our only choice,” Isabelle says. “Unless you want to get in a shootout with Ginny and the rest of the pioneers, three against a hundred.”

“Well, really it’s two,” Alicia points out. “Al’s not going to be able to shoot straight.”

“Fair point. Either way, not good odds.”

“Fine,” Alicia agrees. “I’ll pack her shit.”

Isabelle nods and returns to her book. Alicia heads into Al’s bedroom and finds a backpack on the floor of Al’s closet. In it, she packs all the contents of her desk’s drawer – the wallet, the rings, the notebooks, even the switchblade – carefully. Alicia opens the lower drawer, just in case, and pauses. There’s a camera stored in it, alongside two boxes of tapes. Alicia crams the camera and tapes into the backpack, too, then heads to Al’s closet. She snatches the Atlanta Braves baseball hats off the shelf and shoves them into the backpack. Alicia digs through Al’s clothes and finds a plain black shirt and black pants.

Alicia carries the backpack and the clothes out to the living room. She dumps the backpack onto the armchair and throws the clothes into Isabelle’s lap.

“Her shirt is covered in blood,” Alicia says flatly. “And it’s red. She’ll stand out when we run for it.”

Isabelle nods. “You should rest, too,” she suggests. “We’ve got the rest of the day ahead of us, and we’re leaving as soon as it’s dark.”

“That’s what Ginny wants us to do.”

Isabelle smiles sadly. “I know, but we don’t have another choice, do we?”

*

Al wakes up hours later feeling like someone threw a brick at her face. In all her years, she’s never actually been pistol whipped before. And she’s never had her nose broken – until now. She’s broken her jaw, multiple ribs, collarbone, even her ankle. She’s been stabbed, shot, and she got a black eye playing softball, but she’s only just now, after all these years, had her nose broken.

God, it’s gonna fuck up her whole face, isn’t it? Her nose is going to be permanently crooked, thanks to Ginny. Bitch should’ve just shot her.

Al’s eyelids flutter open, and she can’t tell if it’s dark because all the curtains or drawn or if she’s slept through the entire day. She doesn’t immediately see Alicia or Isabelle, but after a few moments, she hears their voices coming from the kitchen.

“Can I ask you something?” Alicia says, so quietly Al has to strain to hear her.

“All you’ve done is ask questions, Alicia,” Isabelle teases. “What’s one more?”

Alicia pauses. “Al said you were hard on Brooklyn,” Alicia says. “Is that – I mean, why?”

Isabelle sighs heavily, and Al hears silverware clanging against a bowl. “That was two years ago,” Isabelle says. “Things were…different. Al was different, I was different – even Ginny was different. I don’t know. I was being stupid. Jealous, if I’m honest.”

Al makes a face before she realizes it’s going to hurt like hell, and she quickly stifles an oncoming moan of pain. Maybe she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but it’s too late for that now.

“You were jealous of Brooklyn?” Alicia questions.

Isabelle laughs quietly. “Oh, yeah, but I would’ve never admitted it then.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked about this with Al.”

“Al and I haven’t talked about Brooklyn since right after Al helped her escape. We just…moved on.”

“Maybe you should…talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Isabelle asks. “Brooklyn is over and done with.”

“Yeah, but –”

“If Al wanted to talk, I’m sure she would’ve brought it up. And besides, she has you, doesn’t she?”

“I – I mean, I don’t know…what we are.”

“Yeah, Al’s good at not defining things,” Isabelle says. Al hears her stand and set her dishes in the sink. “She’s not really good at feelings,” Isabelle adds. “Maybe that’s why she can’t see that Ginny’s been head over heels since day one.”

Al’s blood runs cold. Wait – what? She nearly rolls off the damn couch, catching herself only at the last second.

“She’s up,” Isabelle announces. She beats Alicia to Al’s side and helps Al sit up. Al can’t keep a disgruntled look off her face, though she doesn’t know if she’s reacting to the pain or the information Isabelle just disclosed to Alicia about Ginny.

Maybe it makes sense.

“I’ve got it,” Al grunts, trying to push Isabelle away.

“You need to change,” Alicia informs. “There’s time if you want to shower before we go.”

“But I’m going first,” Isabelle says. “Dibs.”

Al cracks a smile. “Did you just call dibs on the shower?”

“I sure as hell did.”

Isabelle disappears into the bathroom, and Al turns her attention to the kitchen where Alicia lingers near the counter. “How do you feel?” Alicia finally asks.

Al huffs. “How do I look?”

Alicia winces. “Rough.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how I feel.”

Alicia nods solemnly. She hesitates but slowly makes her way over to the couch and gingerly sits next to Al. Alicia clasps her hands together in her lap, sitting just far enough away that no part of her body is in danger of touching Al’s, even though they woke up naked together just that morning.

“Spit it out,” Al suggests.

“Were you and Isabelle, like…a thing?”

Al smiles, but it hurts her face, and she quickly stops. “I don’t know,” Al says. “We never put a label on it.”

“Is that what you normally do? Avoid labels?”

Al rubs at her neck and thinks she probably should shower to wash off all the dried blood Alicia hadn’t been able to wipe off. Al manages a small smile and shrugs. “After Taylor died…I don’t know. Maybe I felt guilty or something and didn’t want to name what was going on. So I didn’t, and I paid the price. But that’s all in the past, Alicia.”

Alicia nods stiffly. She stares down at her hands, and Al stares at the side of her face, waiting for her to say something. It takes her a while, but eventually, Alicia whispers, “If we aren’t going to go anywhere, you should tell me now.”

Al inhales deeply then reaches over, turning her palm up as an offering. When Alicia takes her hand and draws it into her lap, Al says, “I think we should slow down. Actually get to know each other.”

“I’m good with that.”

Al nods. “That is, if we make it out of here alive, first.”

Alicia snorts. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“You’ve already packed a bag,” Al points out.

“No, I packed _your _bag,” Alicia says. “I don’t have enough belongings to pack a full bag.”

“You packed my bag?”

“Isabelle told me to.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t think I forgot anything, but you should probably check.”

“When I get up to shower, I will,” Al says. For now, she leans back into the couch and entwines her fingers with Alicia’s. Alicia relaxes, slouching down on the couch and tentatively resting her head against Al’s shoulder.

“Do you think we’re gonna live past tonight?” Alicia asks quietly.

Al exhales. “Honestly? I’m not sure.”

*

Isabelle returns freshly showered, and Al quickly grabs her clean clothes and goes to wash off. Alicia doesn’t move from the couch, her leg bouncing incessantly, and she only looks up when Isabelle retrieves her rifle.

“So if Ginny catches us,” Alicia says, “what are we going to do?”

Isabelle blinks then slings the rifle over her shoulder. “We’ll do whatever we have to,” she says. She hesitates. “It’ll all be over soon,” Isabelle says. “And we’ll either be out of here, free, or…”

“Or we’ll be dead,” Alicia finishes.

Isabelle smiles, and if she’s worried, it doesn’t show. “Exactly. And if we’re dead, we won’t care about our freedom anymore, will we?”

“I don’t know,” Alicia says flatly. “I’ve never been dead. I don’t know what it’s like.”

Isabelle grins and shakes her head. “Al’s always had a thing for smartasses.”

*

Al rolls the sleeves of the black shirt up to her elbows and plops her cowboy hat onto her head. Old habits die hard, she guesses. She’s got her revolver at her hip, and when she returns to the living room, she puts the backpack on her back and turns to Isabelle and Alicia.

“You know what to do,” Isabelle says.

Al nods. “Follow me.”

*

Alicia walks sandwiched between Al and Isabelle. She does her best to keep her head down and stay as quiet as possible. Most of the pioneers are asleep, per usual, except those on the overnight patrol shift. And, if she’s smart, Ginny. Alicia’s hand never strays from the Glock at her hip as Al leads them to the weak spot in the fence.

“Wes fixed it,” Al had told them before they’d left the apartment. “But I know he’s an idiot, so he definitely didn’t do a good job.”

“And if he did?” Isabelle questioned.

Al grinned. “Then we’ll bust through it, and he’ll have to fix it again.”

They reach the supposed weak spot, and Al swiftly undoes Wes’s shoddy repairs. “What’d I tell you?” Al whispers. She turns back to flash a grin at Alicia and Isabelle but freezes. In the next instant, Alicia is swept behind Al, pinned between her body and the fence. At the same moment that Ginny draws her revolver, Isabelle points her trident bayonet at Ginny’s face.

“Try me,” Isabelle warns.

Ginny’s revolver is pointed at Al, and Ginny smiles as though Isabelle’s not even there.

“I was really hoping you all wouldn’t do this,” Ginny says. “But I did expect you to try.”

“There’s no point in trying to keep us here,” Al says. Alicia grasps onto her shoulder, breathing raggedly as she scans their surroundings for any signs of backup. So far, there are none. Not even the guys on patrol.

“You didn’t really think I’d just let you waltz out of here, did you?” Ginny laughs. “My second-in-command _and _my head of security? No, I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.”

Al shakes her head. “We all know what happens if we stay, Virginia,” she says. “You’ll line us up and execute the three of us for insubordination.”

Ginny’s eyebrows raise. “I don’t think you’ve ever once called me Virginia, Al,” she says. “In fact, I am hurt.”

“Well, save it,” Al spits. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You are wrong,” Ginny says. “Alicia here just didn’t know the rules, and you and Isabelle were only trying to prevent more bloodshed. That’s something I can understand.”

Al’s muscles tense, and Alicia’s grasp on her shoulder tightens.

“Don’t listen to her,” Isabelle hisses. “She’s still pointing a gun at your face.”

“You’re pointing one at mine,” Ginny says. “You lower yours first, and I’ll do the same.”

“Not a chance,” Isabelle says through her teeth.

“Come on, now,” Ginny says. “We can all have a civil conversation here.”

“That time has passed,” Al says.

“You shot an injured man in cold blood,” Alicia says from behind Al. “How can you call yourselves civilized?”

Ginny’s head tilts to the side. “We do what’s best for the whole of the group,” Ginny says.

“That’s not good enough anymore,” Al says. “We’re going, and you should let us. No one else has to die.”

Ginny’s pleasant demeanor falls, replaced with something more sinister. She cocks the hammer on the revolver, keeping it aimed at Al’s head. “See, Al, now that’s where you’re wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


	5. outside

Al considers her options. Alicia could slip through the fence, but she’s pretty sure Ginny will shoot one of them before Alicia can get away. And given that Ginny’s revolver is once again aimed at Al’s face, she’s pretty sure she’s the one that will go down first. Al doesn’t dare draw her own revolver; at least Isabelle’s got her gun trained on Ginny.

“How could you?” Ginny hisses, taking a step forward. Alicia’s fingers dig into Al’s shoulder, and Al resists the urge to wince. “After all this time, everything I’ve done for you –”

“Everything you’ve done for me?” Al says incredulously. “Like what? The way you run things around here drove Brooklyn to want out. I should’ve seen it then, but I guess I let the regular meals and showers go to my head. You killed a man we need to function as a settlement rather than use our resources to help him heal.”

“We’re running low as it is,” Ginny snaps. “We can’t be wasteful –”

“Just save it,” Al interrupts. “Brooklyn was right, and now I’ve finally had enough. I guess all it took was a nice whack to the face. Which you’ve ruined now, by the way. Thanks a lot.”

Ginny smiles gently and gives a small shake of her head. “Even a broken nose can’t ruin your face, Al.”

Jesus, maybe Isabelle and Alicia were onto something. Al’s jaw hangs open in disbelief. Al doesn’t know what to say, and neither Alicia nor Isabelle pipe up with anything.

“Here,” Ginny says. She raises the revolver up pointedly then jams it into her waistband. “Consider it a gesture of good faith. There’s no need for that, now.”

Isabelle looks to Al, and Al gives a curt nod. Her hand goes to her hip. If Ginny even _thinks _about pulling the revolver again, Al will be faster.

“Let’s just talk, Al,” Ginny says. “You really don’t want to do this. If you did, you would’ve left with Brooklyn. I know you could’ve figured out a way to make it happen, but you stayed. And if you stay this time, things can be different.”

“Nothing will change,” Al says quietly.

“Don’t be so sure,” Ginny replies. “You don’t have to be second-in-command anymore, Al. We can be co-leaders. Equals. You just have to stay. Please.”

Ginny reaches her hand out as an offering, and Al stares at it warily. She can see Isabelle watching her in her peripheral vision. Though Isabelle’s face gives nothing away, Al knows what she’s thinking. Alicia’s fingers are probably leaving bruises on Al’s shoulder, and only that feeling keeps her rooted in reality. Ginny smiles encouragingly, hand outstretched.

In one swift movement, Al pulls her revolver from her hip and blows out Ginny’s kneecap. Ginny cries out in pain, her legs buckling beneath her, and Al rushes forward to disarm her. Al passes Ginny’s revolver back to Alicia. Before Al can walk away, Ginny grabs a fistful of her pant leg, forcing her to stop.

“How could you do this to me, Al?” Ginny says through her teeth. “After everything we’ve been through – how could you _leave _me?”

Al shifts her shirt down just enough to expose the top of the scar Ginny had left her with after she found out Al had assisted in Brooklyn’s escape. Ginny’s eyebrows pull together, and Al yanks her pant leg free of Ginny’s grasp.

“Go,” Al tells Alicia and Isabelle. “Go and don’t look back.”

*

Alicia doesn’t know how long they walk for without stopping. Al leads the way; she hasn’t said a word since they stepped outside of the fence enclosing Paradise Ridge. Neither Al nor Isabelle show any signs of exhaustion, even as the sun rises. They just keep walking along the side of the freeway, occasionally killing walkers. Well, Al kills the walkers before Isabelle or Alicia ever get the chance to.

“We should take a break,” Isabelle finally says as an exit ramp comes up on their right. “We’ve been walking for hours. We’re far enough away.”

“We should keep going,” Al grunts.

“I agree with Isabelle,” Alicia says breathlessly. Her legs feel like they’re on fire, and her face is covered in a sheen of sweat. “I need a break.”

Al doesn’t look back, but she nods and motions toward the exit. “Let’s see what we can find,” she says.

Isabelle falls back as they walk up the exit ramp and claps Alicia on the shoulder. “Come on,” she says. “We’re almost there.”

Alicia’s eyebrows quirk upward, but she just shakes her head. Her eyes flick over to Al. She’s got not only her own revolver holstered at her hip, but she’s got Ginny’s crammed into the back of her waistband.

As if Isabelle’s reading her thoughts, Isabelle murmurs, “She’ll be alright. It’s an adjustment. We haven’t lived without the pioneers in years.”

“I just can’t help but wonder if she didn’t want to leave,” Alicia says quietly.

“Don’t worry about that,” Isabelle dismisses. “If she didn’t want to leave, she wouldn’t have.”

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Alicia admits.

“Maybe,” Isabelle says. “But it’s for the best. Brooklyn was right. Ginny’s methods are wrong. We all just overlooked it in favor of our own interests.”

“Keep up!” Al calls over her shoulder.

Alicia and Isabelle exchange a glance. Alicia pushes herself to walk faster, to at least keep up with Isabelle if not Al. They make it to a gas station just off the exit ramp. Al’s the first through the door, and she dispatches the three walkers inside in quick succession. Al twirls her revolver around her fingers then jams it back into its holster.

Alicia drops the backpack to the ground as Isabelle collects snacks from the shelves. Alicia watches as Isabelle disappears toward the back of the station before she approaches Al. Al hauls herself up onto the counter, sitting beside the register.

“You okay?” Alicia asks.

Al pulls the cowboy hat from her head and runs her fingers through her hair. “I’m fine,” she says.

“You’re lying.”

Al sighs and shakes her head. “I just don’t know what to do,” she admits. “I don’t know how to build a life outside of the pioneers.”

“It’s okay,” Alicia says. She grasps onto Al’s knee comfortingly. “We’ll figure it out,” Alicia assures her. “Together.”

Al nods but presses her lips together. She pulls Alicia’s hand off her knee and brings Alicia’s knuckles to her lips. Alicia smiles and reaches up to brush Al’s bangs out of her eyes.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Alicia says. “I packed that camera and the tapes that were in your desk. I didn’t know if you were really attached to them or not, but…”

Alicia trails off when she watches Al’s expression soften. Al swallows hard, holding Alicia’s hand in both of hers in her lap. Al glances to the back of the gas station, but Isabelle’s still busy foraging for supplies.

“I was a journalist,” Al admits. “Before everything ended. Believe it or not, humans were pretty terrible even before the dead rose.”

“So you joined a group of terrible humans?” Alicia says.

Al inhales sharply. “We weren’t all terrible. We just let Ginny dictate everything. We let her go unopposed. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, Alicia. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions, endorsed a lot of messed up shit – or at least didn’t stand up against it. I did it to keep myself alive, but maybe that’s not good enough.”

“Well,” Alicia says, “maybe this is a chance to be better.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe it starts with that camera,” Alicia says, motioning toward the backpack.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Alicia says. “You told me when we met that the pioneers were trying to build something that would last after this part of human history ended, right?”

“Yeah,” Al says warily. “So?”

“So that seems like it was a lie,” Alicia says. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But,” Alicia continues, “maybe we could still do something significant, something that will last after we’re all dead.” Alicia grins. “We could make a documentary.”

Al laughs, but she stops when Alicia doesn’t join in. “You’re serious?” Al says.

“Yeah, why not?” Alicia says. “Come on. I saw those books about documentary filmmaking in your room. You can do it better than Isabelle or I could. But we’ll help you, of course.”

“That’s insane.”

“What’s insane?” Isabelle asks, stepping up to the counter with her arms full of water and snacks.

“Making a documentary,” Al says. “We have bigger things to worry about –”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Isabelle says.

“You do?” Al and Alicia say together.

“Yeah,” Isabelle says. “If humanity survives long enough to eradicate the dead, they’ll want to know what happened, what it was like.”

Al sighs and rubs her temples. “Fine,” she agrees. “But I want to find a place to settle first.”

“Agreed,” Isabelle says. “You still know how to hotwire cars?”

“Yeah,” Al answers.

“Perfect,” Isabelle says. “I just have one condition, if I’m going to stay with you two.”

“What is it?” Alicia asks.

“We’re leaving Texas.”

They all laugh and nod their agreement.

“Then where are we going?” Alicia questions.

Isabelle rips open a bag of chips then pauses. “You know, I have unfinished business in Indiana.”

“We are _not _going to Indiana,” Al scoffs.

“You have a better idea?” Isabelle challenges.

“Yeah, literally any other state,” Al replies.

Isabelle shrugs and crams a handful of chips into her mouth. “Then pick one,” Isabelle says.

Alicia hesitates. “My brother and my friends were heading north,” she says. “Toward Oklahoma. Maybe we could, uh…start there? I think I should find them.”

Al and Isabelle look at each other, and Isabelle shrugs. “That’s a start,” Isabelle agrees. “But I think we should set up something a little more permanent somewhere.”

“We’ll get there,” Al says gently. She slides off the counter and slings her arm protectively around Alicia’s neck. “Come on. I’ll teach you how to hotwire a car.”

*

Isabelle drives through the night. Al stays awake to navigate from the backseat, opening and refolding maps as necessary. Alicia sleeps across the seats with her head resting in Al’s lap. Isabelle glances in the rearview mirror at them occasionally; she only speaks to ask navigation questions, at least until almost three in the morning.

“You think we’re going to find them?” Isabelle asks quietly. “Alicia’s friends and family?”

“I think we should try,” Al says. “It’s not like we’re on a tight schedule.”

“You don’t want to look for Brooklyn?” Isabelle questions.

Al stiffens. “No,” she says softly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Isabelle shakes her head. “I think you just don’t want to. Alicia’s obviously into you.”

Al snorts. “Yeah? And?”

Isabelle looks back to smirk at Al. “And I think you feel the same way.”

“Don’t start with me, Isabelle.”

Isabelle chuckles. “Hey, as long as you’re happy.”

*

Alicia wakes up with her head in Al’s lap, Al’s hand in her hair. She sits up slowly, setting Al’s hand gently in her lap, and realizes Al’s asleep. Alicia grabs the backpack from the floor and digs up the camera. It only takes her a few minutes to figure out how to work it, and it isn’t until she’s loading in a blank tape that Isabelle says anything.

“What are you doing?”

“Starting the documentary,” Alicia says nonchalantly. She climbs up into the passenger’s seat and trains the camera on Isabelle. “You’re up first.”

Isabelle grins. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Isabelle laughs. “I don’t think that’s possible, Alicia.”

“Fine,” Alicia says. “Then tell me the important parts.”

“Where do I even start?”

“Start with your name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that wraps up this project! As always, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!


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